Summer of Surprise
by InMyEyes2014
Summary: After his father's death, Henry has been invited to come to Storybrooke to meet his grandfather. Emma and Henry are set to spend two weeks in the town where Neal early years where they will meet his friends and enemies in the tiny Maine town, including a man named Killian. The result is a summer of romance and fun and maybe learning the meaning of home and family. A/U Modern.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: I wasn't going to do this. I was going to finish Deserted and then take a break for a while, but this story won't leave me alone. So I thought I'll post the first chapter and see the reaction. Let me know what you think. **_

Emma Swan ran her fingers over the file folder of tests and essays that her son's teacher had collected for the past few months. The teacher had called it a portfolio, but to her it was evidence that maybe she had done something right in raising him. That is until his father, Neal, had breezed back in his life only to be hit by a drunk driver and die on the side of a road without ever managing a single father and son camping trip or an explanation of puberty. No, all parenting was left to her - fail or succeed.

Smiling politely, she listened the words from the woman's mouth about potential and encouraging academic success. Despite her own struggles in school, she knew that her son was smarter than more of the children in his grade and was well on his way to being smarter than her. He breezed through math problems two grade levels ahead of him. His writing was creative and correct. His reading comprehension was spot on accurate. He had a mind for history and geography that made her ashamed of her dependence on a GPS.

"I was thinking that perhaps he might be a good candidate for a summer enrichment program," the woman said, her eyes shining brightly as she spoke of the young student. "He's such a bright boy. I know he'd thrive with other students like him. I think it would be good after his father…"

Emma tried not to be obvious as she glanced at her watch, counting the minutes until she had to be back at work. As a single mom, she rarely had an opportunity to miss any time. Their livelihood depended on her ability to earn money, especially now that Henry's father had passed away. She was a contracting as a bail bondswoman, making a percentage on each deadbeat she managed to apprehend. The money was good at times and dreadful at others, but one thing was for sure. She had to actually work to make money.

"That sounds…great," Emma said, offering that fake enthusiastic smile that she often used when she was working on a case. "But Henry's grandfather has arranged for him to spend the summer in Maine. He's never met him before so I think it will be good for him to get to know some family."

The teacher slid the brochure she had been holding back into the stack and reached over for another envelope. "They have some really good programs in Maine for gifted students. He might like some of these." The brochure was thicker than the regular trifold. The original probably boasted glossy photographs, but this version was black and white and folded at the corners where someone had removed and replaced a staple.

Emma felt the minute hand on the clock speed up as she stared at the Xeroxed copies of single spaced descriptions of everything from space camp to theater playgroups. "I'll take a look," she promised with a half-hearted smile. "Thanks for your help. I know he's in good hands here."

Henry was in good hands, she thought as she darted out into the crowded parking lot and tried to remember which row her little yellow bug was in from when she just parked it 30 minutes earlier. She had so many things going on in her life. She was dating a new guy, trying to get in extra hours so she might actually get a vacation that summer, and trying to raise her son on her own. He was the one succeeding while she struggled.

Her son's hair looked like it needed another trim, but she pushed that thought aside and kissed his cheek before he pulled away and returned his attention to his video game. It was his solace now, one of the only things he had found he had in common with his father in the brief time they had shared. Neal was not a bad father, but after a car accident had claimed his life, Emma realized just how much she needed the extra help he provided.

"Your teacher was suggesting an enrichment program," she said, turning the car onto the busy street with a wave of thanks to the man who had let her into traffic. "One in Maine."

"I don't want to go to Maine," Henry grumbled, his feet bracing the edge of the seat and the handheld game being balanced on his knees. "I don't know him."

"He's your grandfather," she reminded him gently. "You can ask him stuff about your dad."

Henry looked up through the shaggy brown hair that practically covered his eyes. She reminded herself to schedule an appointment for him. She did not want him to meet his grandfather looking like she had not cared for him in years.

"I'm not going," he said doggedly. His foot slipped from the seat and kicked his backpack. "I hate Maine."

"You've never been," she muttered, pulling out in front of a truck a bit too closely. "And I'm afraid you don't have a choice. The Gold's want to meet you. They want to meet Neal's son. So you're going. That's final."

***AAA***

Emma threw the file down in the lopsided bin on the edge of Elsa's desk, a frown on her face as she waited on the other blonde woman to notice her. She tapped her foot impatiently, listening to the gentle and slow cadence of Elsa's voice as she explained to some poor woman that they tracked down criminals and bail jumpers, not dogs.

"We should add that caveat to the next advertisement we take out," Elsa said with a sigh, looking up at Emma's green eyes with a mix of frustration and amusement. "That's the fourth call today about a lost pet."

"No job to big or small," Emma said, slipping an orange pen out of the cup of writing instruments on the desk. She flipped it over in her hand to see the logo for a website development company and laughed. "You know if you're going to convince me that Will isn't your type, maybe you need to quit letting him come by to visit. He seems to leave behind office supplies as a calling card."

"He says we need a website," Elsa said, snatching the pen back and shoving it in among the other assortment. "He could give us a good deal."

"When people need a skip tracer or bondsperson, they don't look online. We need good word of mouth and connections. That's all we need." She looked pointedly at the woman in front of her. "And you're not working if he's here flirting with you."

"Partner, not employee," Elsa said just as pointedly. "And I don't see you getting much work done when Walsh comes to visit. Or is he just here selling furniture." She waved her hands around to indicate the rejected office furniture that decorated their office space. Water warped tables and desks, mismatched file cabinets, and faded framed posters that had been there when they moved in a few months before. "I'd be embarrassed to show him this place, if I was you. He deals in high end antiques and our look here is ghetto college dorm."

"He's also friends with several judges and city officials," Emma reminded her, arms folding over her chest defiantly. "He's a good contact for business. Networking is important." She tried to keep her face stoic, but it was clear to her friend and partner that there was something going on between the two of them. They had been seeing each other for a few weeks and she was even considering introducing him to Henry, a big step in her life since she rarely brought dates around her impressionable son.

Elsa rolled her eyes dramatically and dug under a pile of papers for her message pad. "Speaking of which, Judge Maribel's office called for you. Looks like an easy one."

Will Scarlett had been flirting with Elsa since he first ran into the two women in the elevator of the building where they'd located their office. Actually he had flirted with both of them, but Emma had been the least interested of the two, calling him several names and practically punching him when he called their business venture cute. Elsa, on the other hand, had found him amusing, much to Emma's annoyance.

Both women had been working for one of the larger bail bonds companies when they met. The management team had not seen them as viable or serious and relegated them to office work while the new male recruits got the more exciting assignments. On one of the few stakeouts they had been allowed to participate in, the air conditioning had broken in the company's van and both women had commiserated over the horrible conditions.

"The difference," Emma had said, pulling her shirt away from her skin and fanning herself with a discarded magazine, "is that we get boob sweat and they get the better cases. If I was brave, I'd quit and open my own business."

Maybe it was the heat of that summer night or maybe it was the fact that their boss had just called her sweetheart for the eighth time that day, but Elsa jumped at the idea. While waiting on their suspect to appear outside the bar his mother owned, they had worked out the details for going into business themselves, even designing their logo and scanning a real estate section of the newspaper for cheap office space. A week later they were turning in their notices and hanging out their shingle along with Elsa's younger sister, Anna.

They were in their lean period, Anna had said when the three women had to pool every dime they had to pay the rent. They had to hustle for every bit of work, proving themselves again and again. Emma knew that her reputation was on the line each time she took a job and tried desperately to make sure she did her best to keep it intact. One perp getting away meant others saw her and woefully underqualified. A good catch meant that she was lucky.

"I've got a few places to check out today," she said, pointing at a disorganized bulletin board they called their command center. "He's got to have been in contact with someone. So I'm going to go see what I can dig up at some of his old haunts."

Elsa nodded, clearly no longer interested in the conversation. "I'm going to try to figure out Anna's system," she said with a sigh. "Remind me to buy her and Kristoff a lifetime supply of condoms. I don't think we can survive another maternity leave with her."

"She'll be back," Emma said, ripping a list of names and addresses off the board without removing the push pin. "How long can they survive on his salary from the gelato place he opened last year?" It had been a long running joke that Anna was the one with business sense in that marriage, as Kristoff had decided to open a frozen dessert café in the middle of winter in Boston.

***AAA***

Even with her schedule the way it was, disorganized and hectic, Emma tried to make it home before her son's bedtime each night. Having grown up in foster care and group homes, she knew the pain of feeling neglected and abandoned. Henry would never feel that way, she told herself. She wanted him to know that he was loved and cared for even when she was so tired and busy that she felt at the end of her rope.

"Homework done?" she asked, dropping a carton of Kristoff's famous Belgian chocolate gelato on the counter in the kitchen. He always gave her some when she stopped by and she brought it to Henry as a treat. "Or am I going to get a call tomorrow about you?"

She never got calls about him not doing homework, but she still made the statement as a threat. The calls lately had been about his behavior, acting out and refusing to work with his classmates on assignments. There had been calls that he was sullen and angry; both she attributed to losing his father.

His eyes were glued to the 50-inch television that she had gotten on sale and did not even recognize the brand name. Watching him, she wondered when the last time was that he'd blinked. "Kid?"

"In a minute," he muttered, tilting the game controller in his hands. "Seriously, this level is hard."

Grabbing two spoons and the carton she collapsed on the couch beside him and tried to make sense of the scene on the television. It looked like an apocalyptic mess of monsters and zombies. She wasn't sure who was supposed to be the good guys in all that. But she knew that Henry would scoff if she tried to ask. Shoes off, she folded her legs under her and glanced at the assortment of papers on the coffee table, seeing the paperwork from his teacher on top.

"Did you see any of them that interested you?" she asked, leaning forward to lift the brochure closer to her face. "It might be fun."

"They're in Maine," he said with a tight clenched jaw.

"And that's where you'll be this summer," she said breezily, as though they had not been arguing about it for weeks. "Look at this way. If you do a summer enrichment program, you won't have to deal with your grandfather all day. You'll just see him for dinner or something." Emma wondered if that was even true, as from what Neal had said about his father, the man was not one for family meals.

"I'm not going."

Emma dug the spoon into the carton and pulled out a gob of chocolatey goodness, flipping to the next page of the brochure. "There's one here about science," she said. "You love science."

"It's Maine," he muttered, shifting his whole body in the effort of winning the game. "What kind of science is there in Maine?"

She pulled the spoon out of her mouth. "What is with you and Maine? What did Maine ever do to you?"

"Dad hated Maine," he answered as though it was obvious. "He hated his father. He hated his mother. Why do I have to go to Maine?"

Emma sighed heavily, looking at the boy who undoubtedly took after Neal more than her. "I get that," she said. "But your father was not a happy man about family. People change and your grandfather really wants to get to know you. It's just for two weeks. It's not the end of the world." She shifted to face him though his attention was still on the video game. "Don't you want to meet your dad's family? His friends from growing up? I think it might be good for you."

A red box appeared on the screen declaring that Henry was now out of extra lives and the game was over. He sank back against the cushions of the couch with a huff. "Two weeks?"

"Yes," she said. "Two weeks. If you stay here, I'm making you work. You'll have to do filing and stuff at the office. It won't be a vacation."

He grabbed the extra spoon and filled it to overflowing with the gelato. "Science?" he mumbled through a mouth full of the chocolate.

"It's the only one there in the town of Storybrooke," she said tossing him the papers before she recited the description to him. "Environmental Science Adventure. A perfect outlet for a creative mind that will explore the diverse habitats of both land and sea in coastal Maine."

***AAA***

Emma was on the second aisle of the grocery store when her phone rang, a bleating hip hop tune that Henry insisted on picking out when she first got the upgraded device. She yanked it from her pocket and tried to sound professional as she looked over the morning breakfast cereals with cartoon characters on the front. "Swan here," she said distractedly.

"Emma?" a female voice asked. "This is Belle Gold. I wanted to talk to you about Henry."

Feeling a bit sick to her stomach, Emma clutched the handle of the shopping cart and waited. "Yes, what about him?" she finally asked when the tentative voice did not volunteer any more.

"My husband and I are thrilled that he's going to come to visit," she said in a clearly rehearsed speech. "I know that he's going to love it here."

She waited again, thinking how strange it was for the woman to call. All the talk before had come through e-mail, short messages about arrival times and sleeping arrangements. There had been two to discuss food allergies alone since Henry had none and Neal had been prone to them. "I'm sure he will."

"It's just," the woman sounded even more hesitant. Emma tried to picture her, having only seen one photograph from those in Neal's collection. She was much younger than her husband and quite beautiful. Neal had called her a trophy wife and insisted that she was just after his father for his money. "It's just that my husband isn't all that well."

"Excuse me?" Emma asked, not expecting that reason for the call.

"It's his heart," she said. "He had a heart attack not long after Neal's death and hasn't fully recovered. I'm worried that it might be too much for him to have a young boy around the house. The noise and all."

Emma rubbed the bridge of her nose with her fingers. "Are you asking me to postpone the trip, Mrs. Gold?"

"Please, it's just Belle. No, I wouldn't dream of asking you to do that. I just was thinking that perhaps rather than having Henry stay with us, he could stay at this lovely bed and breakfast in town. It's just the most quaint little place with antiques and fantastic artwork. It's just the coziest little place you can imagine. I'm sure he'd love it."

"Mrs. Gold, Belle, I am sure this place you're talking about it great, but we're talking about a 12 year old boy. He's not going to be impressed by antiques and artwork. Not to mention he's 12. You can't expect a 12 year old to stay in a hotel alone." An impatient shopper pushed her cart past Emma, giving her a look that was clearly a commentary on talking on the phone in the store. "Maybe we should just postpone."

"No," Belle protested loudly, a clear difference from her soft tone from before. "What I mean is, that wouldn't be wise. You see, Emma, my husband is very ill. His heart is not in good shape at all. The doctors…well, he doesn't have much time left. He so desperately wants to meet Neal's son. I realize this is an inconvenience, but we're able to pay you for you trouble. If you could maybe stay with Henry. We'll cover all the expenses."

"Me? Come to Maine?" Emma inched her cart forward when a mother of three cleared her throat in the universal signal that she was in the way. "I own a business. I can't just pack up and leave for two weeks…"

"And we would pay that too. We could pay your rent that month, any salary you receive, even provide you with the ability to Skype with your co-workers and clients. It's not ideal, but please consider it. I really feel that it is best to do this now. It'll be good for them both."

_**Thoughts?**_


	2. Chapter 2

**_A/N: I'm glad that some of you seem to really like this idea and the plot. Here's chapter two, which includes our introduction of one Killian Jones. _**

Killian Jones heard the familiar voice calling to him over the sounds of the sea gulls that morning, his tone a cross between annoyed and amused. The morning sun had already lit up the eastern sky, bright and orange with shards piercing the rolling waves of the ocean. He saw none of that as he threw a length of rope in the storage box and kicked it back under the seat.

David Nolan, the source of the voice, would be onboard his ship any moment. The sheriff was notoriously without boundaries when it came to ones possessions or space. Deciding not to wait for the invasion, Killian climbed up the ladder to the deck and waited with his hip leaned against the railing and his arms folded over his chest. He offered no greeting, but smiled politely at the man and waited for what was to come next.

"Mary Margaret's been trying to reach you," he said, struggling to keep his balance as he stepped from the dock. "She said you haven't called her back."

Killian ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek. "Your wife," he said with a small amount of disdain since David was the first of their group of friends to have married and stayed that way, "wants me to spend my summer hauling a group of rug rats around on my ship and play Pirates of the Caribbean with them or something. No thank you."

"Not all summer," David said, obviously more knowledgeable about his wife's plans than he was planning to let on. "It's just two weeks and those two weeks will give you enough money to keep this hunk of junk afloat for an entire year."

Killian cringed at the description of his ship. "I don't do well with children," he said, resting his hand on one of the masts before swinging around the assortment of equipment to stand before his friend. "I barely liked myself as a child."

"You get along with Roland," David pointed out. "He's a child. A bit younger than the ones who you'll have on board this summer, but still a child."

"He's four and he's about to be the age where he realizes I'm bloody well full of crap," Killian said somewhat honestly. "These children she has planned this for are almost teenagers. They'll be playing video games and texting on their phones, not wanting to learn anything about the sea."

"What do you care?" David asked. "You don't like them. They won't like you. It's still good money."

Killian shot a glance at the sleek new sailboat that was moored just across the way. "I thought she always got William Smee to do this," he said. "Kids love that daft idiot. He's got a modern vessel and a blatant disregard for safety."

There was an uncomfortable silence when David cast a glance at Killian's injury, a prosthetic hand with a black glove sat over where his hand used to be. It was not something they talked about, though everyone in the town knew how it had happened. "I think you'll do fine," he said. "First group will be here at 8 on Monday morning." He jumped from the deck to the boards of the pier and teetered a bit. "Try and not be hung over, okay?"

"I didn't agree," Killian called out after him. "You're the one who married the teacher. Not me, mate."

David held his right hand over his head and snapped his fingers. "That's right," he added as an afterthought. "Try not coming on to the mothers. That never sits well with that crowd."

***AAA***

Emma did not even want to look at the back seat of her car, knowing it was littered with candy and chip wrappers, empty soda bottles and other trash from their road trip. Henry had quit talking about an hour into their journey, angry that he was not even welcome in his grandfather's home. "You're going to be more comfortable and so will I," she had said to him. "Do you really want to have to share a bathroom with these people?"

"I could have stayed in Boston and just talked to him on the phone," Henry had muttered before placing the earbuds in his ears and ignoring her requests.

She had to admit that the drive was lovely and the bright blue sky made everything appear much more comfortable and cozy. She had been a city girl all her life, rarely setting foot outside the urban oasis. There was something to be said for a smaller town and more rural setting, she decided when they passed by their third farm in 20 minutes. Shooting a glance at her son, she shook her head and adjusted the radio dial on the old but reliable car.

It had been her car since she was 18 and now at 30, she was not sure how much longer she'd have it in her life. She'd been a young run away who had just been thrown in jail and was pregnant with Henry. Neal had split, leaving her a car and a keychain. She wasn't sure why she ever let him back into her life. Maybe it was because of Henry, she thought. Actually, she knew it was because of him.

Henry had come home after school one day in tears. His usually cheerful demeanor clouded over with regret and anguish over a crumpled flyer in his hands. She had taken it from him, unfurling it with one hand and hugging her son at her side with the other. In cartoonish letters it read Father and Son Field Day. She had almost cried with him as she realized he had no such man in his life. She'd told him that they would figure something out, promising that her inability to have a relationship would not interfere with his opportunity for fun. She'd stayed up most of the night and in the end begged a co-worker/friend from her previous job, August, to accompany her son. It had been awkward and unconventional, but it had worked.

"I don't care what you think about me," she had told Neal when she tracked him down a few months later. "You have a son and he needs a father. You're going to be that for him."

Neal had tried. He came for visits, took Henry to a few baseball games, sent him postcards and souvenirs from business trips, and a couple of pizza dinners and video rentals. He would have done more, she told herself, but he didn't have enough time. Now her son had the memory of a father, though. That was better than feeling abandoned.

The tires of her car spun a bit in the gravel as she pulled off to the side of the road to investigate the sound coming from what she hoped wasn't the engine. Henry looked up, suddenly aware that they were no longer moving. His eyes asked the question about the reasoning for their stop, but she offered nothing as he climbed out and went to the rear of the little yellow car.

She knew she could open the compartment, but honestly the concept of fixing a car on the side of the road was nothing she knew about. Holding her phone up, she checked for a signal and then dialed the familiar number for Walsh. He had said he would drive them, which she had taken as a sign that he was eager to infiltrate himself into their lives. Men often tried to do that when they found out she had a son. They either ran or tried to prove to her that they were responsible and ready to be fathers.

"I'm meeting with a customer about a big custom order," he said a bit distractedly. "Why don't I send a car service or a rental car? It will be faster and you can avoid having to stand outside in the hot sun all day waiting for me." There was a note of pride in his voice, detailing that he had thought up what he considered a perfect plan. "Give me your location exactly."

"Don't worry about it," she said, looking toward a strip of businesses less than a quarter of a mile down the road. "I think I see a mechanic up ahead."

"It's probably not safe, darling," he said.

"It's fine. I'm a tough girl," she reminded him. "I'll call you later."

She drove the car the short distance to the garage and frowned as she saw the only technician was a middle aged man with a thick beard and not so kind eyes. She steadied herself, expecting him to say something like little lady or honey. She was not in the mood for the condescension. Kicking the door shut, she tried to silently communicate with her son that he was to remain quiet while she dealt with any of the misogynistic jerks. If he understood, he said nothing.

"Leroy," the man said, holding out a freshly wiped but still grease covered hand. "What can I do for you?"

"My car," she said, sweeping her arm in the vehicle's general direction in case he did not know what she was talking about, "seems to be growling at me and the temp gauge is running a little hot."

His lips pushed past the wiry hair of his beard and he narrowed his eyes at the car. Wordlessly, he hurried over to the car and unlatched the rear to look inside. A few grunts and twists later, he frowned back her. "Looks a little old," he said. "Might be worth considering getting something newer."

She resisted the urge to tell him off, opting instead to smile. "Thanks for the advice, Leroy, but I came to get her fixed. You do fix cars, right? You're not a front for a used car dealership, are you?"

He laughed louder than necessary. "Your carburetor is about shot. It might take a while to get parts," he said. "Where are you guys headed?"

Emma hesitated, as a stranger asking questions like that was not usually a good thing in her line of work. She glanced over at Henry who had lost interest in the conversation and was studying an almost empty vending machine with the intensity of a school assignment. "Storybrooke," she said, half hoping he would not know where that was located.

"Ahhh…that does make it easy," He motioned for her to follow him into the garage bay, pointing out the pan of grease on the floor as a way of a warning. "I live there myself. Have for 40 years now. I'll give you and your son a ride there and drop you off. It should take a day or two to fix your car, but you'll be fine. Everything is walkable in Storybrooke."

Henry heard that and promptly gave his mother a look that said so much about her lectures about not talking to or taking rides from strangers. "I think we could just take a cab," Emma protested. "It wouldn't be so bad."

Leroy gave a half shrug and backed his way toward the shop's office where Emma could see an old calendar from about 20 years ago with a picture of a scantily clad woman. "It'll cost you about $70 for that, but whatever. It's your money."

***AAA***

The woman behind the desk at the bed and breakfast looked bored as she chewed on a piece of gum Emma was pretty sure had already lost its flavor and scrolled through something on the computer screen that Emma assumed was Facebook or Twitter. "Can I help you?" she asked, barely glancing at the blonde woman with her son. "We've got rooms available."

"I think you have a reservation for me," Emma said, resting her purse on the counter as the dark haired woman across from her looked a bit surprised. "Emma Swan?"

"Of course," she said, using her palms to push herself back from the desk. "I've got you two adjoining rooms with a city view." She paused, her hand smoothing the red tinted streak of her hair. "You don't remember me, do you?"

Smiling faintly, Emma tried to look past the heavy makeup and the low cut top the woman wore to see any sign of familiarity. "I'm sorry, but no."

"Ruby Lucas," she said sticking out a hand to shake. "I was a friend of Neal's. That one weekend he came up here with you and we all hung out by the lake. I was there."

"Ruby," Emma said, hoping her voice sounded kind and familiar. She and Neal had taken the road trip just after they started dating. He'd made the town sound so boring that she had dreaded it, even more so when he explained that his only family still lived in the area. But they snuck in just after dark and did not even so much as slow down on the quick drive to the lake. She'd met a dozen or so of the people he'd gone to school with and drank beers by the water and hoped that the local sheriff would not catch them. "It's good to see you."

The woman smiled brightly, turning her brown eyes from Emma to Henry with a nod of recognition. "This has to be Neal's son," she said. "He's a dead ringer…" She stopped short, looking embarrassed and contrite with her wrinkled nose and muttered apology.

"Yes," Emma said, touching the top of her son's head with the palm of her hand. "He's Henry."

Henry's eyes seemed to follow the brunette as she shimmied over to the bank of keys and pulled off two that she handed to them. "Like I said, adjoining rooms, each with a bathroom and a sitting area off the larger one. We have a diner just on the other side here." She pointed vaguely behind her. "Open six to midnight. I'm usually there, but Granny was feeling a little under the weather so I'm filling in here right now. We don't usually do room service, but just call me. I'll bring up whatever you need." Her bright smile returned. "If you need anything, let me know."

Emma gathered their bags, a mismatched set of luggage that she had managed to acquire through various friends and sales at discount stores. It took clearing her throat three times before he finally took the hint and lifted both the duffle bag and one of the heavier suitcases. She followed up with the rest, as it had been dropped off by Leroy just outside the bed and breakfast and despite the quaint look of Storybrooke, she wasn't prepared to trust anyone not to steal.

"It looks like a nice little town," she said when they arrived upstairs and opened the doors to both rooms. Pulling back the curtains, she looked out over what appeared to be a library and several shops. She could see a few people walking around and a few more sitting on benches. "It's a little like Mayberry."

Henry shot her a confused look that she quickly brushed off. "I guess it's ok," he muttered as he walked through the door between their rooms. "I'll unpack."

"We can walk around for a bit," she called after him. "Maybe find where the school is for your first session. Then we're supposed to go meet…"

"I know," he said sullenly, kicking his door shut behind him.

***AAA***

The diner was crowded when Emma and Henry arrived back after their walk, but from the best that she could tell, it was the only place open that did not require a jacket and a tie. Belle had called to welcome them to town, explaining that she would be happy to cook but that it might be more suitable to meet at the diner instead.

"I don't really know how to cook burgers and fries for Henry," she admitted.

"Since I'm a fan of burgers and fries, I think that's a great idea," Emma said, rounding past a small pocket park and watching a group of kids on bikes across the way. A little girl pumped her legs as fast as she could on her own smaller version with training wheels.

Like everything in Storybrooke, the diner seemed old fashioned with prices that were extremely low compared to New York or Boston. Giving a quick glance around, Emma saw just one empty table and steered Henry to it once she realized their dining partners were not there yet. The table was in the back corner near the door to the restrooms and a hallway, totally devoid of any menus, condiments, or silverware. When no waitress came immediately, Emma slid out and headed to the counter where she saw a stack of each.

Rising onto her tiptoes, Emma's reach was not quite enough to reach the laminated menus that everyone else seemed to have memorized.

"Inconveniently placed, aren't they?" an accented voice said, making her jump. The diner was hardly quiet, but his voice had startled her. She peeked over her shoulder, seeing a set of blue eyes that crinkled around the edges with his smile. His arm was on her back and he leaned forward to grab the menus for her. "I hate to see a lass struggle."

"Thank you," she said, pulling the slick sheets out of his hands. "I appreciate it."

"Of course," he answered with a wink. "You must be Emma."

She took a stutter step backward, eyeing him carefully. "I am. How did you…"

His smile deepened, perfect white teeth shining in the artificial light of the diner. "Small town, love. Everyone knows everyone and if they don't, they will say they do. We have a newspaper, but there is no need. Gossip mill works faster than the printing press."

"I'll remember that," Emma said, the approach of Neal's father to the table catching her eye. "Thank you again…"

"Killian Jones," he said, sticking his hand out to shake hers. His fingers seemed to grip hers a bit too easily fit perfectly along the valleys and ridges of her palm. He gave hit a final squeeze before letting go. "Your lad?"

"Excuse me?" she asked, still staring at his eyes and feeling inadequate in the way of long lashes. His seemed to create shadows on his cheeks and had no need for the ritual of mascara that she put herself through each morning.

"The boy at your table who is currently waving you down," he said. "I assume him to be your son."

She shook her head slightly to shift the attention of her brain. "Oh," she said, giving her son a quick glance as he was approached by his grandfather. "Yes, his name is Henry." She took another step backward. "I should…"

"Go see to your boy," Killian said, holding up the basket of silverware rolled in paper napkins. "It's a busy night. Might be best to help yourself."

Emma smiled tensely and dug her hand in to pull out four packs of silverware. "Thanks…Killian," she said, trying to remember a name that seemed to roll off her tongue easily. "See you around."

***AAA***

Henry's grandfather did not look like the ones in magazines or movies. He did not wear a sweater. There was no pipe. And he did not even attempt to pull a quarter out from behind the boy's ear. Instead he stiffly greeted him with a short shake of the hand and proceeded to peruse the menu as though he had never set foot in the diner.

"Neal said you weren't a big fan of seafood," Emma said, hoping to break the silence when the man suggested the crab cakes. "I'm not either, truthfully."

"I'm not," Mr. Gold answered, a bit startled at either the mention of his son or her blatant interruption of his suggestion. "I only thought that you and…Henry…might appreciate them."

Emma smiled, again barely showing her teeth in a tense expression. "I'm sure they are great, but I think Henry and I are going to get burgers. Henry likes the double deckers with cheese and plenty of pickles and onions."

"Anything but tomatoes," Henry chimed in, ignoring the fact that he loved ketchup but hated the actual source.

"Your," Mr. Gold said, clearing his throat, "father was a big fan of the ones here. It was a treat that his mother used to bring him for when he did well on one of his exams." The older man cleared his throat again and held up the menu between him and the guests.

Emma smiled uneasily at her son, rubbing her hand on the upper part of his back. "I'm sure they are great." She leaned over into the aisle between the tables to look to the door for the man's wife though she had no idea what Belle actually looked like. She was just eagerly anticipating the arrival of anyone who might carry the conversation between a young boy and an old man who seemed to have nothing in common. No sooner had she shifted into a prime viewing position did she feel the slam against the back of her head. Her blonde hair fell forward and the clip holding her hair back dug into her scalp as her chest hit the edge of the table.

"Excuse me lass," Killian said, dropping down to her level with an apologetic tone. "I did not mean to nearly decapitate you. Are you alright?"

"Fine," Emma stammered, her hands reaching up to push her hair back into place. "I'm fine."

His right hand was hovering near her head, almost wanting to soothe the pain of the clip's impact. "I apologize. It was quite clumsy of me. I trust I drew no blood?"

She gave him her best nervous laugh. "I'm fine," she repeated, adjusting herself so that she could not breathe in the scent of leather, salt, and basil, she motioned to Henry. "This is my son by the way." Killian's eyebrow shot up and even Emma wondered if she had just dreamed the conversation where he had asked about the boy. "Henry."

Killian's smile was back, nodding to her son. "Pleasure to meet you, lad. I'm Killian," he said, his accent thicker than Emma was remembering it. "You be sure to keep an eye on your mom for any lingering effects of the accident."

Henry smiled politely, chewing on the end of a straw that was dipped in his soda. "Sure," he said. "Nice to meet you."

The easy demeanor of Killian Jones dissipated into a thick cloud of strain as he let his eyes shift to the man sitting across from mother and son. "Killian," Mr. Gold said, his gaze unblinking. "I think you should leave Ms. Swan and Henry to their dinners."

Emma was about to protest that they had yet to even order so it was not like Killian was interrupting anything other than an awkward conversation. However, the blue eyed man was on his feet just as quickly as he had arrived and was apologizing again for the intrusion, leaving Emma to wonder just what kind of man was he and how did Mr. Gold seem to intimidate just about everyone in his path.


	3. Chapter 3

**_I'm going to give you another chapter tonight and try to update again this weekend. The baby is making his move it appears so no promises other than I won't be writing while in labor. _**

Emma sat rather quietly, letting Henry detail some odd dream that he'd had the night before that somehow included flying in an airplane with a clown and a dog. She tried to give the appropriate responses of head nods, grunts, and a few one word answers. It was one of those rare occurrences lately when her son was talkative and animated, but she found herself distracted from his ramblings on the breed of dog and whether or not they would make good flying companions.

Sipping her coffee, which was just the right temperature and taste with her splash of milk and two sugars, she let her eyes wander a bit around the not so crowded diner. Ruby had told her that most people didn't arrive until around 8 so she was not that surprised. Only a few hearty souls were devouring eggs, waffles, and bacon. There was a young family in one of the booths, a man and woman with their infant boy. A man with allergy issues and white pharmacist coat was sneezing away from his bowl of cereal. A few other customers were scattered about, none that notable except maybe the mechanic and his son and daughter who were around Henry's age. Most of the customers did not sit and eat, running in to grab cups of coffee and bags stained with grease with a toss of cash down on the counter and a wave to Ruby and the older woman who Emma guessed was Granny.

"The flight wasn't that smooth," Henry said, snapping her attention to him. "It's…what do they call it when the plane is flying all bumpy?"

"Turbulent," she supplied, lifting the cup back to her lips.

"Turbulent?" Henry repeated, trying out the word. "Yeah. It was turbulent." He sliced through his French toast with the edge of his fork, spearing it and dragging in through the powdered sugar and syrup.

"Sounds scary," Emma said distractedly, noticing that Killian had just breezed into diner and picked up an order that was waiting on him. He balanced two cups and a bag in one arm and gave Granny a nod rather than a wave. Emma wondered for a moment just who he was buying coffee for that morning, trying to recall if she remembered a wedding ring on his finger or not. Usually she was observant and would have noticed such a thing, as she could size someone up in about 45 seconds. However, she'd been a bit thrown by his eyes and the way he smiled to notice anything else. Why did she even care who he was buying coffee for anyway? She was in a relationship and not the jealous type.

"Scary?" Henry asked, one end of his top lip curling up. "I thought it was funny."

She let her eyes rest back on her son and his eager brown eyes. "Sorry, kid," she said. "I'm just not a fan of clowns or planes."

The awkwardness did not seem to bother Henry who began talking to his mother about why he usually liked English better than science. "I think I'll like this program though," he said, admitting that he had been reading more about the area and some of the adventures promised in the class. "Did you know there is an actual desert in Maine? Maine?" He shook his head as if he could barely believe it himself.

"Wow," Emma said, throwing a few dollars down as tip money. "I didn't know that at all. What else?"

He kept up the chatter the full four blocks from the diner to the school, talking about whale watching adventures and a tribe of Native Americans called the Abenakis. Emma again listened and responded appropriately with nods and even a question or two. However, she did notice that more people were milling about that morning, including a furniture designer who she recognized from Walsh's store and Killian who was bounding up the steps at what looked to be the sheriff's station.

The school itself looked small, but Emma could tell that every bit of space was well used. Several mothers who seemed to know each other were walking away after dropping off their children. All of them were perfectly dressed in crisp white shorts and striped shirts, sundresses, or linen suits. Their hair was blown out into luxurious manes of reds, blondes, and browns. Emma couldn't help but feel a little less than adequate in her skinny jeans with the tiny hole near the knee and her white tank that had a splatter of coffee on it under her wrinkled but comfortable jacket. The teacher, a Mrs. Nolan, was waiting outside the door to greet each of the young scholars (as she called them) and reassure the parents that this would be both fun and educational.

"I'm so happy to have you join us," she said to Henry, her dark hair bouncing as she animatedly greeted mother and son. "Your teachers said some wonderful things about you."

Emma placed an encouraging hand on her son's back, knowing that like her he wasn't big on meeting new people. She heard him mutter back a greeting and with a quick wave to her, he adjusted his backpack and headed through the red double doors into the building.

"We'll take good care of him," the pixie cut brunette said to Emma when she noticed that the woman was staring too long down the corridor at the school. "It's honestly a great opportunity for him."

Emma's eyes snapped back to the teacher and gave a quick smile in return. "Yes, I'm excited for him." There were no other students or parents arriving yet so Emma knew she had just a moment to talk to the woman. "I know you saw his file and realized…"

"He sounds and looks like a great kid," Mrs. Nolan interrupted before Emma could stumble through any explanation. "I understand that his father passed away recently and that this is his first time to his father's hometown. Believe me, I'll keep an eye out for any sign that there might be trouble. The schedule is so jam packed that he won't have any time to get too lost in his thoughts." She pulled a stack of stapled pages out of her hand stitched tote. "He's on the explorer team so he'll be going to the docks at 7 each morning starting tomorrow to learn about the water and even do a little whale watching. This weekend his group does a camp out in some of the woods near here. He's going to love it."

"Sounds great," Emma said with a smile. "I'm sure it will be great." She knew she had just used the same word twice and inwardly cringed at such an error in front of an English teacher. "Well, I should get out of here. I need to check in at work."

Emma scampered down the four steps toward the path through playground and gate that would lead her back to the center of town when she heard Mrs. Nolan call after here. "Ms. Swan? What is it that you do for work?" she asked. "On the last day of the enrichment program we have people from various jobs come in and talk to the kids about careers and all. It might be interesting for them to hear from someone not from Storybrooke."

Emma's blonde hair flew over her shoulder as she spun back to face the teacher. "My job is kind of physical and pretty adult. It isn't really appropriate for children," she said with a nervous titter. "I wouldn't want to warp any young minds."

"Oh…oh! I see. Well, I'm sure that it must be nice to have some time off from that…line of work," the teacher said sounding just as nervous. "We'll be fine with our standard guests."

Emma bit her lip as the teacher waved again and practically bolted into the building.

***AAA***

Elsa was not happy to hear from her business partner when Emma called that morning. "You could have just texted," she said sharply, slurping loudly on her coffee. Often referred to as the princess or the ice queen for her frosty demeanor and perfectly coifed looks, Elsa actually had a way of being just one of the guys and often shocked people with her decorum.

"Sorry," Emma said, dodging a woman running with one of those racer strollers. "I needed the reality of your voice. This place is Mayberry."

"Isn't that in the south?" Elsa asked, showing that she was usually quite literal in her interpretations.

"It's just an expression," Emma groaned impatiently. "It's seriously the smallest town I've ever seen. For instance, I'm standing outside the sheriff station right now. There is one patrol car. Just one."

Through the phone Emma could hear the sounds of Elsa scanning some document and the steady beat of a song on the radio. "Maybe the rest of them are out patrolling or something," she answered.

"I don't think so. There's only a parking spot for one." Emma shook her head in disbelief. "I bet if I go in there that there will be only one cell."

"Even Mayberry had two. And the key hung between them. Have you met Otis yet? Isn't that the town drunk who used to lock himself up to dry out?"

"That may be the guy who is working on my car," Emma admitted with a shudder. "This place is weird."

Elsa sighed dramatically, which was a sure sign of her annoyance. "Did you really expect anything else? I know you, Emma. You usually do your research."

"I didn't have time," Emma admitted, inspecting her nails as she talked. She lowered her voice and tried to say her next sentence through clenched teeth. "Oh my lord. Someone just walked by with a flip phone."

"Are you serious?" Elsa said with a gasp. "That's it. I'm sending Will for a rescue. We'll be there in a few hours to drag you out. No one should have to deal with flip phones."

Emma laughed. "Seriously, give me some signs of life. What did you and Will do last night? And don't bother protesting that you didn't see him."

"We went to play pool over at that new place near Walsh's store. Speaking of. He was there and said hello. Don't worry. He was drinking martinis and talking with some guy about decorating his new office space with custom built stuff. No women hanging over him or anything. Though that ex-girlfriend was there."

"Did you think I was worried?" Emma asked with a laugh.

"I would be," Elsa said flippantly. "Any woman would be. You're leaving your guy on his own for two weeks. I'd say you're asking for trouble, but Walsh seems boring. So I guess you're okay." Emma could picture Elsa looking antsy with the phone conversation, seeing it as wasted money since she could be working. "If you're talked down from your ledge, I really need to get back to work. One of us needs to anyway."

Emma shoved the phone into the pocket of the light jacket she had put on that morning, realizing that it was a bit chilly with the breeze coming in off the water but Ruby had promised it would be hotter later in the day. Re-thinking the detail, she pulled her phone back out and began to search out some details on Storybrooke, hoping that a blog or something might give her some clue as to the quaint town's quirks and issues. Scrolling through the screen's offerings of sites, Emma did not hear him approach.

"Sheriff's name is David Nolan and the mayor is Regina Mills," Killian supplied. That bright smile back in her view as he squinted into the sunlight to look at her. "I could give you the name of the dog catcher, the council members, and the coroner too, but I presume you're not that interested."

"Are you spying on me?" Emma asked accusatorily. She stepped up onto the curb to create less of a height distance between them. "You seem to be everywhere I am this morning."

His smile faltered a bit as he rocked back on the heels of his well-worn boots. "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean, Swan," he said, brow furrowed in confusion. "I just saw you when I was leaving and thought I'd save you the trouble with your research there. Have we seen each other this morning?"

She shoved the phone back into her pocket. "I saw you at Granny's," she explained. "You were picking up an order. And I saw you go in here earlier when I was…"

"So you've seen me twice and haven't even bothered to say hello," he said, nodding his head knowingly. "I don't know, Swan. I think you might not be cut out for this small town life. We at least wave when we see someone we know." His right hand was in the front pocket of his jeans and his flannel shirt hung loosely over a white t-shirt.

Remembering to look at his left hand, she found herself staring at a black leather glove by his left side. "You could have said hello too," she reminded him, her head tilting slightly to the right.

"Aye, that would have been kind of me," he admitted. "But alas I'm not the one who noticed the other." He pulled his phone out of his pocket and smiled. "By the way, I'm not one who carries a flip phone either."

She blinked rapidly, letting his confession sink in around her. "You were listening."

"Love, you're on a public street. I saw you and wanted to say hello. I was just waiting for the opportunity." He smiled again, this time revealing a dimple that she had to admit was charming. "By the way, we have two jail cells in Storybrooke. Neither are occupied at the moment. I just delivered breakfast to my good friend, David, the sheriff here in town." Waiting for her answer, he rocked back again, lifting his right hand to rub at a spot behind his right ear. "I realize you're new in town. I could show you around this morning, if you'd like. It would be no trouble at all."

Emma glanced skyward as if that might provide her some sort of answer, her hands digging into the back pockets of her skinny jeans in her most nonchalant pose. "I think I can find my way around," she said, mimicking his posture as she balanced on her heels and her toes lifted up an inch off the ground. "You could point me toward a running trail or something though. I saw on my walk around yesterday that there aren't any gyms here and I need to get in a good workout. Two weeks is a long time without one."

"Aye, that it is," he said. "David's wife said you'd probably need showing around. She said you weren't from around here."

Emma considered the name David for a moment and then realized he was talking about the sheriff. How the sheriff or his wife already knew about her was a bit confusing. "I'm a topic of conversation?" she asked, trying to sound flattered rather than creeped out by the concept.

"Small town," he said. "Anyway, she said in your line of work that you'd be looking to burn off some calories. I guess so after your burgers and fries last night." He flinched as though he just realized what he had said and how insulting it sounded."

Emma's jaw dropped. "I'll have you know…wait…why are you all so convinced I need to burn calories for my line of work?"

He was blushing as much as she was as he let his eyes descend over her body. "Please don't be offended," he said. "It was appalling for me to say. I just thought that since you wouldn't be dancing for the next two weeks that you might need to find other ways to work out." He squinted harder, as if the sun had just become even brighter.

"Dancing?" Emma asked, not hiding her confusion as her face contorted wildly. "I am not much of a dancer. I never even took ballet classes since I was in…" She paused, realization hitting her at his words.

"Is that a prerequisite?" he asked. "I didn't know that most in that line of work took ballet. I mean does it help…" He nervously returned his hand back to that spot behind his ear. "I suppose it helps with grace and movement."

"Wait," Emma said, her arms crossing over her chest. "You think I'm a dancer? Like an exotic dancer. A stripper?"

"Well," he said, drawing out the word slowly. "No, I didn't. I thought you…well, I didn't know. But David's wife thought you said you were and she told David and David asked if I had ever seen you perform…"

There was that conversation about her again, that discussion of her life without her being present. She scowled. "I'm a bail bondsperson. I chase down bail jumpers and other deadbeats."

"Oh…" he said, the color having risen from his neck up his face and ears. "I'm so sorry. Not sorry that you're a bondsperson, but sorry that I…"

Emma tried to laugh it off, amused by his embarrassment more than she was embarrassed herself. "Can I ask just who is this wife of David's? I'm wondering what sort of impression I made on this woman." A car whizzed past them, the driver giving a short wave to Killian who waved back without looking.

"Mary Margaret," Killian said softly. "You met her this morning. The teacher?"

"Mrs. Nolan?" Emma laughed. "The woman who appears to be the epitome of a Disney movie? She was wearing a sweater set and practically had birds and mice singing around her."

Killian laughed at the joke, obviously relieved that Emma was not too offended by his error. "That's a pretty accurate description. She's a very sweet woman. If she finds out you're staying at the bed and breakfast, I can guarantee she'll be inviting you over for a home cooked meal. Especially now that she's misjudged you."

"That's quite a consolation prize," Emma laughed. "Do you know this because you've been on the receiving end?" Her phone chirped with a text message and she politely ignored it.

"Aye," he said with a chuckle. "She thought she recognized me from a show about wanted men. Never mind that we've known each other since I moved to Storybrooke at age 10. I might have my secrets, Swan, but I'm no serial killer." He lowered his hand, pointing a finger for emphasis.

"Then I'll look forward to the meal," she said. "Can I ask another question?"

"Aye…"

"You keep calling me Swan," Emma said, her own eyebrow raising though not as dramatically as he seemed to accomplish this task. "Why? I know it's my last name…"

"Bloody hell," Killian said with an awkward and apologetic smile. "I seem to be determined to be of offence to you today. I knew it was your last name and thought it suited you. It is such a graceful bird and you appeared quite similar. I will refrain. I apologize."

Emma ran her teeth over her bottom lip, watching his awkwardness reappear. "I'll take it as a compliment."

***AAA***

Killian had managed to pull together the supplies he needed for what he was calling his pirating 101 class the next day. Lengths of rope had been cut for knots and he had expertly folded each of the sails so that he could demonstrate their proper position. He'd even snuck over to Granny's to pick up a bite to eat around lunch time and confirm the order for his class the next day.

He might have argued that he was not good with kids and hated to teach, but he took the job seriously. He knew that this program was the brainchild of Mary Margaret, which meant that she and by extension her husband would demand nothing less than perfection. And he was not really much for failure anyway.

His brother had taken him out on boats from a young age, stealing a few and borrowing others to teach and show Killian everything about the sea. They had snuck off for picnics by the shore or fishing off the coast. When Killian was a teenager, he had worked summers for one of the men who owned a solid but older boat that Killian worked in trade to borrow for dates. So the idea of sharing his love for the open sea was something that did interest him.

"I take it that conversation didn't go well," David said with a chuckle when Killian had returned to the station to run copies of sample knots for his class. "She looked ready to slap you at one point."

"Your wife…" Killian said with a simple shake of the head. "Your wife convinced us both that Emma was a stripper. She's not. She's a bloody bail bondsperson. I don't know why I listen to the two of you sometimes." His mouth snarled unnaturally and he almost gave himself a paper cut restacking the pile of papers. "It never bodes well for me."

Chuckling, David rested his hips on an empty desk and crossed both his ankles and his arms as though he was posing for a magazine. "Please tell me you didn't ask her if she was a stripper. That's awkward even for you."

Killian managed a tense but fake smile. "Not just that, mate. I think I also insulted her weight."

David massaged his forehead with his hand. "You have got to be kidding," he said. "You never do that. Weight should never be mentioned. Did you learn nothing?" He groaned. "She was smiling at the end. So maybe…"

"I think she felt sorry for me." Killian threw the papers down with a defeated sigh. "I did say Mary Margaret would probably have her over for dinner for causing this whole dilemma."

The sheriff chuckled again, adjusting his holster strap and pointing with his chin to the location of the extra paper. "So you insult her – twice. You invite her to have some of my wife's cooking. And she smiles at you. You're better than I thought."

"If I was good, she would have taken me up on my offer for a tour of Storybrooke," Killian said. "I was working on my best tour guide voice and everything." He pointed out the exits in a nasally tone and motioned to them with two fingers. David applauded politely while Killian bowed.

"I think I remember telling you not to hit on the moms," David said. "What happens when you sleep with her, don't call her back, and you still have to teach her son the difference between a dolphin fin and a shark fin?"

**_So I don't have this one planned out the whole way yet. Any suggestions?_**


	4. Chapter 4

**_A/N: One more chapter for you today. This one is a longer one, but it has some good moments and some confused Emma. It also made me hungry since I ended up writing about food._**

He sounded surprised when she called, not unhappy necessarily, but it was not the sound of a man who was expecting her communication. After the initial stutter of recognition, he had told her that he was in the middle of a huge order for some small law firm just outside of the city but of course she wasn't interrupting.

"I think you'd like it here," she said, only feeling a little out of sorts with the statement. "There's a great pawn shop and antiques store that Henry's grandfather owns. And there's that wood working man you have used a few times. You know, the Italian guy."

"I thought that town name sounded familiar," Walsh answered distractedly. "Are you finding enough to do there?"

"Sure. I went for a long run today. Does a body good."

Walsh was not really the working out or outdoor type of man. He preferred coffee shops to gyms. He liked foreign films with subtitles over fishing trips. When Emma thought about it, she could see why Elsa and Anna had been so surprised that she liked him. Loved him, she corrected. She loved him. He wasn't fly by night like Neal. He put no pressure on her about where the relationship was going, though he spoke of things in terms of their lives together rather than some short term thing.

"He reminds me of a monkey," Henry said when she replaced the phone into her pocket. "Over eager and hyper."

"He's not," Emma said, trying to figure out why she felt a distance beyond the few hundred miles. "He's a great guy."

There were eight steps up from the driveway to the front door of the house where they were having dinner with Henry's grandfather and Belle that night. Emma knew this because her muscles were tight and ached from overuse, screaming as she ascended each stair. She'd run laps around the perimeter of the small town, trying to clear her mind and thoughts as she considered the liability and logistics of packing up and heading back to the tiny apartment she and Henry shared.

She was not a proud woman, never had been one for accolades or even cared about the gossip of others. She'd heard it before. There were comments when Henry won awards at school that she must be sleeping with someone. When she landed a bad guy or helped with a major case, there were comments about her insider information. She'd worn a particularly revealing dress to bring in the worst deadbeat of her career. Instead of congratulations some guy asked how much would she charge for a trick. She'd laughed most of it off. But then there was Killian.

He'd seemed so honest and earnest, so hopeful that maybe he was mistaken, and so prepared to not judge if it was true. The mixture of relief and embarrassment on his face upon learning that she body slammed bad guys rather than gave lap dances was hard to miss. She'd laughed at him and with him, pretending that the label had not bothered her. But for some reason it stung.

She wasn't exactly a prude or that judgmental herself. There was the woman two floors up who had been dancing for 10 years. She a nice woman. Emma had conversations with her in the laundry room about brands of shoes and music on some classic rock station that only came in clearly on certain floors. One of her first jobs had been for another dancer, a woman who had been assaulted by a guy who then ran off after he was released on bail. The woman had a masters degree and read Tolstoy in between sets. But still Emma had felt a piece of her heart crack at his expression when he lumped her into the same category.

So she had run. This time she didn't run away. It wasn't like her years in foster care when the smallest slight made her pack up and move on until she was found and placed in another generic home with a woman and man pretending to be caring parents. It was always that way until they admitted she was just a meal ticket for them, a per diem check that would eventually be less than enough to keep them even polite to her. She'd done it with Henry in tow, moving from Phoenix to Pittsburgh, Tallahassee to Boston, Detroit to New York and a few places in between. The only difference now was that she was running in a circle.

"If you point your toes," a female voice said, "you'll get a longer stride. That'll shave seconds off your time." The brunette lapped her, running backwards so she could watch Emma's reaction. "Seriously, you have talent. You could probably do a 5K by the end of the summer if you started training for it now."

"I don't run races," Emma said, wishing she could outrun the waitress and keep up the solitary activity. "Sorry, Ruby, I just usually run because I have to chase down some creep who ran out on his family who posted his bail by mortgaging their house. It's about getting the bad guy not medals or trophies." She paused, hands on her thighs as she breathed heavily. "Sorry. I didn't mean to insult your idea."

"No, no," Ruby said, jogging in place by her side. "I get it. Races aren't everyone's thing. I just thought you looked kind of down and that you could use some encouragement. I don't know what it's like to be new in town, but I…"

Emma was still hunched forward, her blonde ponytail hanging tangled over one shoulder and damp with sweat. She turned her head to look at Ruby and smiled in a weak sort of way. "I'm not lonely," she said between heavy breaths. "I'm just a little bored. I wanted something to do and when I'm bored I run."

Ruby nodded knowingly and continued to jog in place. "Well, then I'll leave you to it. I thought I might have found a running partner. Have a good time, Emma."

Feeling a sharp pain in her side, Emma wrapped her hands on her torso as though she was pushing away the pain. "Ruby, wait," she said, a tiny gasp on the tip of her tongue. "I'm sorry. I was rude. I'm not up for running at the moment, but I'd love the company."

That was all the invitation Ruby needed. The woman was sweetly sadistic in the way she pushed Emma to the brink physically and even sweeter in how she combined her questions. They weren't really probing, asking mostly about the cities where Emma had lived and the restaurants, bar scenes, and prospects for dating. Emma had actually gotten part of her speed back by the time they passed Killian coming out of Granny's and both women waved – Emma more politely and controlled with a silent prayer that he not approach.

"He's a good guy, you know," Ruby said, not really connecting her gaze to Emma's. "He's got the rep for being a ladies man, but seriously. He's a good guy. I've seen first hand that he would go to the ends of the earth for the woman he loves." Her perfectly shaped eyebrows raised as Emma cleared her throat. "I wouldn't lie to you."

"I have a boyfriend," Emma announced, protesting a little loudly.

Ruby nodded as though she expected the announcement. "That's great, but you can still have friends. Killian's a great guy. A good friend, if you will." She smiled in the best interpretation of an innocent expression on a heavily made up face.

Shaking off the memory, Emma attempted to climb the stairs at the Golds without loudly groaning from the pain – a feat in itself. Henry was already at the top step and waiting for her, unaware of the way each muscle stung and screamed out with each movement and how she would rather be in a bathtub filled with either hot water or ice at that moment. Elsa had been less than thrilled to be called on to talk Emma out of taking a pain pill and closing all the curtains to her room. And Emma found it not so easy to be cool and confident around Killian Jones as he arrived for dinner just as she and Henry were leaving. He had asked after her once Henry had let the door fall back on her and she had half grunted and half groaned out a few explicative words in honor of the new pain that slammed into her with the plate glass door.

Belle was already hugging Henry and attempted to hug Emma who shrunk back as though the very prospect was excruciating. Entering the house that was more cluttered than Emma had imagined, she gratefully accepted the glass of wine that the young wife thrust at her and pretended that her mouth was not watering from the scent of roasting chicken and vegetables, rice, and something that smelled chocolate and caramel. She also tried not to gulp the tangy liquid in hopes that she could pretend she actually had been to a dinner party before and not just guzzled beers at a bar for most of her social outings.

"This is Regina," Belle was saying to Henry and Emma. "Her husband Robin and this little guy is Roland."

Emma shook hands companionably and tried to make sense of the convoluted and quiet explanations of parentage. Robin and Regina had been married just a few months, Belle had whispered to her, after the sudden and unexpected death of Robin's wife and Roland's mother.

Mr. Gold seemed more personable in his own home than the diner, walking Henry about the main room to show his grandson some of the more treasured antiques that he protected from the shop he operated in the downtown area. She wondered briefly if his tendency to collect would make him a hoarder if he didn't have so much money. The rich were always called eccentric when the poor were referred to as crazy.

She did not know exactly where to look in the two-story home that they referred to as an estate. Everywhere there were reminders of Neal. Photos of him as a child. Newspaper clippings from his brief adult life. She knew he would hate that there was a virtual shrine to his younger years. Emma knew there was no love lost between she and her ex, their relationship having been quick burning and quickly snuffed out. But the photos that looked so much like Henry bothered her. She could see that mischievous look of Neal's when they first met, the twinkle in his eyes that said he was up to something. She could practically hear his voice, telling her some tall tale about a party or some adventure. She could see the man who always seemed to carry a bit of the hurt boy inside.

The air in the room felt like it was being sucked out as she watched her son talk to his grandfather, his brown eyes just as expressive as his father's had been.

"How are you liking our little town?" Regina asked, perching herself on the arm of the chair where Robin was sitting. She had removed the tailored jacket of her pants suit, but still maintained the elegant appearance with her patterned chocolate brown pants and cream colored blouse.

"Don't answer that," Robin said with a laugh. "If you do, she'll write this dinner off as a business expense since she's doing research for the city." He laughed as she punched his shoulder playfully, explaining that Regina was the mayor and always looking for suggestions for improvements.

Belle had pushed them out of the kitchen, claiming that she worked better alone than with assistance or an audience. Robin was doing his best to include Emma in the conversation while Regina seemed a bit colder, but friendly enough. They were more into a conversation with each other as Roland followed Henry and his grandfather around with a fascination over the older child.

Emma was about to ask how the two had met, a surefire way to get them talking for a few minutes when she felt the vibration of her phone on her thigh. Using the work excuse, she stepped onto the back deck that overlooked a thickly wooded lot and ran her finger across the screen. The number was unfamiliar, but Emma instantly realized who the message was from.

**K: Just wanted to make sure you weren't plotting my death over my badly formed assumption. **

Emma ran her teeth of her bottom lip as she considered dropping the phone back into her pocket and ignoring the text message from a man who should not have her number. Looking back through the dark wood and glass doors, she could see that her conversation partners were now more snuggled together than when she left. She'd already called and talked to Elsa a few times and Walsh just that once. Fine, she could have a conversation with the man via text message, which seemed preferable to her system than hearing his accent or seeing those piercing eyes.

**E: Not angry. How did you get this number?**

She watched the bubble with the three dots, indicating that he was writing.

**K: I have your boy's emergency contact sheet since I'm taking him out on the water tomorrow morning. **

**E: Stalker?**

**K: I prefer resourceful.**

She couldn't help but laugh at his quick retort, reminding herself that she had said to Elsa on more than one occasion that wit and humor were sexier to her than anything. He was not even there and she was blushing, which seemed to only worsen her condition once she realized. Promising herself a call to Walsh later with a less guarded response, she stared back at that little bubble indicating Killian's forthcoming response.

**K: I was hoping to make up for my grievous mistake with a drink. Perhaps dinner?**

**E: No need. I am fine.**

**K: Be that as it may, you still need to eat. There are other places besides Granny's.**

Emma smiled at the thought, but brushed it aside with the reminder of how awkward she felt around him and the fact that Walsh would not understand at all.

**E: I don't think that's a good idea, but thank you for the invitation.**

Her finger hovered above the send button, not sure she wanted to end the exchange or not. She knew she couldn't follow through, couldn't actually see herself doing anything with this guy. Still the flirtation was nice, the attention boosting her ego.

Belle's voice broke through, inviting her back inside and telling her that she should sit not worry about not being the one there without a husband. "Don't be self-conscious about it," the woman said, dropping her voice down. "We'll be sure to include you in the conversation."

Emma glanced furtively at her son who was engaged into some sort of game with the young Roland, who while years younger than Henry was clearly enamored with the boy. Robin and Regina appeared to be on their honeymoon with their quick kisses and loving looks. She'd seen the way that Belle was around her husband the night before, always deferring to him and curling into his side.

"I have a work thing I need to take care of," Emma said, feeling the lie slip easily off her tongue. "Would you mind terribly if I slipped out for that. I'll pick Henry up later?"

"Oh," Belle said in surprise as Emma slid the now empty wine glass into her hand. The petite woman still seemed small in some of the highest heels that Emma had ever seen worn. Still they helped the woman's legs appear long from under a matching burgundy skirt that billowed out a bit around her thighs where the hem hit. Unlike Ruby who wore similar length garments, the woman's short sleeved sweater did not reveal much and her fluffy dark mane was not laced with any unnatural color. "That's fine. I hope it is nothing too serious."

Emma assured her it was a minor inconvenience. "It's just one of those things I need to take care of before it gets worse," she said, passing by into the house and leaning down to check and make sure Henry was fine with her departure. If he wasn't, she told herself, she'd stay, but the boy seemed to be fitting in nicely. He had nodded and said he'd see her later, giving a quick side hug of acceptance.

Safe and still sore from her hasty exit, pausing only when she reached the end of the block of stately houses on larger lots.

**E: Since you know so much about food in Storybrooke, want to give me a suggestion. I just ditched the Hoods and the Golds for dinner.**

Maybe it was just her imagination, but Killian's response came quicker and quicker still was his lumbering jeep as he pulled up with a smile and a quick run around to open the door for her. It was an unnecessary gesture, but she admitted it was a bit fun to see him that eager to show her that he wasn't a complete jerk. She was almost surprised he had not brought her a corsage until she reminded herself that it was an impromptu dinner and certainly not a date.

Killian had driven another 500 or so feet before he spoke. "So what kind of food do you like?" he asked, merging onto the nearly empty street that ran through town. "We can do Italian? Or there is a good seafood place? I don't recommend the Chinese place, but I'm willing to be adventurous."

Emma leaned back on the seat, shifting slightly so that she could face him. If the leather glove had not indicated a prosthetic hand earlier, she certainly noticed that he drove with the right one only and kept his left arm bent at his side. "I'm just happy to be out of the love connection back there," Emma admitted, holding her hair back as the wind whipped ruthlessly through her tresses from the open top and windows. "I'll let you choose."

He winked quickly at her before he turned the jeep in the direction of the water, choosing a route that led them past the scenic coastal views. "A smart woman," he said, flashing a smile. "Always defer to the local on matters of food." He drove in silence for another few feet. "I trust that you enjoy steamers."

Emma remembered the discussion with Mr. Gold that she did not care for seafood, but truthfully she did enjoy it. Henry's aversion to it usually limited her access, but that did not change her desire. "Of course," she admitted, again noticing that his face was more than just the piercing blue eyes. From profile he had a strong jawline that was covered with stubble but not hidden. "Do you know a good place?"

"Only the best," he said, rattling off a menu that he was clearly familiar with from ordering. When he began to even mention dessert and that she should feel free to order it, she felt her stomach jump and her heart beat a little faster in her chest.

"You know this isn't a date, right?" she asked, hoping that he didn't find her voice as shaky and broken as it sounded in her own ears. "I have a boyfriend."

If he was taken aback by her statement, he showed none of the surprise, again turning the car with great precision. "What made you think I was considering it a date, love?" He smiled, a bit weakly but the white teeth shown again.

She laughed nervously, her right hand holding her hair into a sort of low pony tail and her left pushing back the shorter hair around her face. "I guess the dessert thing through me," she admitted. "I wasn't planning on asking you to pay for me. You're the one who rescued me. I owe you."

He seemed to think about that for a moment as the jeep picked up speed along the road. "But I'm the one who insulted you with that stupid assumption about your career," he said. "I owe you."

"Are we back to that again?" Emma asked, relaxing a bit that he was not insisting that it was a date, only a way to assuage his guilt. "I thought I told you that I was over it."

He laughed, a clear and deep sound that she could admit that she would like to hear again. "We seem to be at an impasse, love," he said. "You negotiate with notorious criminals for a living. What do you suggest?"

She chewed her lip for a moment as though actually thinking it through. "Well, we could each pay for our own," she said. "Or we could flip a coin." She won the coin toss.

The place he took her looked like a shack. Should a good swift wind kick up, the well-worn boards might scatter among the salt-poisoned trees that lined the coastal area near it. The parking lot, a sand and gravel mix was not full, but who would expect it to be so early in the season on a Monday. Emma had changed from her running clothes earlier into a blue jersey dress that was longer than she usually wore and yet left her back bare with a combination of twisted material straps that crisscrossed over her skin.

The deck was open, but few were braving the salty sea air that was promising to be a bit chilly as the sun went down. She realized as they sank into the slatted deck chairs that he had actually memorized the menu that he had recited, but still sent the waitress away with a drink order for what turned out to be two salty margaritas that made Emma forget the frozen mess of pre-made mixture she had in her freezer at home.

By the time the bucket of steamers and little pots of melting butter arrived, Emma was not caring if it was a date or just dinner with a friend. She was impressed. He spoke of his boat with the same passion as reserved for someone's family. The man knew everyone in town. While he jokingly pointed out their quirks and idiosyncrasies, she could tell that he really loved the family he had made himself in Storybrooke.

"Why Storybrooke?" she asked, spreading a bit of butter on fresh corn on the cob.

"My mother was Irish and my father English," he said, watching her try to eat the corn with a bit of amusement over her lack of grace. "They never quite agreed on a hometown so the compromise was the United States. My mother raised us boys here after he left, saying it was the perfect small town for a family. Little league games here get more attention than any professional sport. If my brother or I dared to skip school, half the town knew and ratted us out before my mother had finished her second cup of coffee."

"Sounds like you have a good family," Emma remarked. She reached out and shucked one of the oysters for him, ignoring the look he gave her that said he realized that she was trying to help.

"Aye," he said, throwing the now empty shell into the plastic waste bucket. "My mother was a beautiful and strong woman. My brother was my hero."

She noticed that he spoke of them in the past tense, but chose not to pry. For some reason she felt the need to protect him from the curiosity she was sure he experienced every day at the hands of the town and visitors. If he wanted to tell her what had happened to his hand or his family, he would tell. Otherwise, it was none of her business.

"I knew him, you know," Killian said when he had replaced his now empty margarita glass with a beer. She noticed that he ordered it without hesitation, some brand she'd never heard of and not the Corona that the few others in the shack were gulping down with abandon. "Neal? We went to school together."

She felt a burning sensation on her face from the last rays of the sun. "I assumed you did. Everyone around here seems to have known each other forever. I feel like the stray."

He chuckled. "We weren't friends per say, but we did have classes together. We even worked one summer together over at Marco's. He was going to teach us the furniture business along with his son August. I think the three of us spent the whole time hauling wood from an old truck to the warehouse and trying to sneak off for burgers without getting caught."

"Typical teenage stuff?"

"I suppose," his long fingers pulled at the label on the bottle. "He graduated high school at 10 in the morning and by 3 he was packed up and headed out of town."

"He didn't stay in one place much," Emma admitted. "Why did you stay here?"

"This is home to me," Killian said. "After my mother and then my brother died, I was left with memories of them only. Their memories are strongest here. So I stay because leaving seems like giving up. Now I've got great friends. I've got a roof over my head. And I have a beautiful woman buying my dinner tonight."

Emma allowed herself a wide grin. "I think I might have messed up on that," she laughed. You're supposed to be apologizing for assuming I was a stripper."

"I offered to pay," he reminded her, taking another sip. "The offer still stands." She still refused, telling him that maybe he could buy their dinner another night. Then she realized that he might interpret that as her asking him on another date. Thankfully he didn't respond other than a quirked eye brow that seemed to be a natural reaction for him that was more reflex than purposeful. "Is he tall?"

Emma wasn't sure what he meant. "Is who tall?"

"Your boyfriend?" Killian asked. "I noticed that you wear a lot of lower heeled shoes and just wondered if he was short or tall. Just trying to get a picture."

"Average, I guess," Emma said, sipping her drink and resisting the urge to lick the salt. "I'd rather not talk about him."

"Hmmmph," Killian muttered.

"What?"

"It's just that you said you have a boyfriend. Most women like talking about their boyfriends. They either complain about them or gush about how great they are. You don't mention him unless it is to tell me how I shouldn't read too much into dinner with you." He shrugged as though he was already bored with the conversation. "I just wondered what he was like."

"He's…" She hesitated to answer. "He's nice."

"Pretty weak word there, Swan."

"He's a furniture dealer." She resisted the urge to laugh. Whenever Walsh used the word dealer, she immediately thought of drug dealers. That made her think of Walsh trying to hock end tables and china cabinets on the streets for cash. "Successful."

"That's important for you?" Killian asked, his expression more guarded. "Financial success."

"It's not a bad thing."

She offered very little else and Killian thankfully let the subject drop, picking up that she would rather talk about her son. He admitted to being nervous about the following day's activities with the children and said he was roped into it.

"You'll do fine," she said. "I think they will be too excited to notice your fear too much."

**_Please review?_**


	5. Chapter 5

**_A/N: Thank you for the recent response to this story. I was getting a bit worried there about it. This chapter gives you a little more Henry and Killian, but it also gives a bit of background that was hard to write. I hope I created a believable story there. _**

She'd managed to soak in the tub when they got back to the bed and breakfast, Henry already tucked into the bed next door and Emma trying hard to ignore the fact that a man had just driven them home and walked her to her door where he stood as though he expected a good night kiss. She had frozen, not one of her better moves. Her heart thumping so loudly in her ears that she wondered if he heard it too. So when he said good night, she had leaned over and kissed his cheek. So much for being clear about the signals.

The water in the tub was still blissfully hot and seemed to knead the muscles of her neck, back and legs with soft laps. Killian had seen her pain, offering both a sympathetic look and a tease that he could give her a massage with one hand.

On the drive to pick up Henry, he'd told her that his hand had been lost in an accident. An explosion, he said, shrugging off the look of concern on her face and explaining that he barely thought about it now.

"Thank you," she had said, earning another quizzical look from him.

"For what, love?"

"Telling me," she said. "I know from experience that being open and honest isn't easy."

He did not respond, telling her only that he would wait for her in the jeep while she collected her son. The Golds weren't fans of his, he said with a small laugh. They would prefer he stayed far away. She wanted to question that, but she thought better of it and conceded there were plenty of people who would rather be without her.

Henry had bounded into the jeep with a mixture of curiosity about the driver and excitement ride in something open air. "Cool," he had said when Killian's tires squealed away from the curb and onto the street. Emma could not help but think that he was going to enjoy his time on the boat with Killian, who was already becoming acclimated with all the right things to say to her son.

The next morning dawned early with the orders to be at the dock on time or miss the lessons of that morning. Henry woke up before the sunrise and even before his alarm clock, the impatience of youth winning out over the practicality of a little more sleep. Emma, on the other hand, was glad to sleep in the warm bed and ignore the painful muscles that ached more that morning than they had the entire day before.

Despite the fact that she considered sending him on his own to the dock, she let her paranoid city persona take over and managed to drag herself to breakfast where she was devouring a cheese omelet and home fries with a cup of hot chocolate.

"I wonder if we'll see any whales today?" Henry pondered, stuffing the last bite of his waffle into his mouth and rolling his eyes when his mother dabbed at a syrup spotted chin with a napkin.

"I think," Emma said, placing her fingers under his chin so that she could manipulate his head to inspect its cleanliness, "you're going to be working on safety and stuff like that today. So don't get your hopes up too high."

Henry pouted a bit, stealing a slice of bacon off his mother's plate and biting off a bit. He might have pouted all the way to the docks had Killian not walked in at that moment. He waved vigorously, yelling out the man's name to join them.

Emma hissed for him to calm down, reminding him that Killian was probably busy getting ready for the day. However, true to form the young man placed his coffee on the table and swung a chair around to sit at the end of their booth rather than join either one of them. "You're here for coffee," she said, nodding to the brimming cup of blackness that showed no hint of cream or sugar. "I thought you'd try to sleep in a little."

"I have a dozen students boarding today with all eyes on me to teach," Killian said, his eyes squinting a bit in the artificial light since the sun had yet to come up. "I need both liquid courage and something to keep me on my toes. This was the most appropriate drink I could conjure up."

Emma laid the fork down on her half empty plate. "Are you saying that you're nervous? I would think that you are never scared of anything."

"A man who has no fear is either too stupid to realize matters of the world or too set in his ways to know true risk," Killian answered, sounding to her like a fortune cookie. "Perhaps you would like to join us and keep an eye on the class. I could certainly use the help."

Emma pushed the side plate of bacon in his direction, a truly generous move that he accepted. "As much as I'd love to see Killian become Mr. Jones – teacher extraordinaire, I think I'd prefer to stay on dry land."

"Mom's not a big fan of boats or water," Henry said as though he had more than enough years of experience himself. "She freaks out going over large bridges."

Killian's face paled a bit before he brought back the smile that Emma associated with him. He took another sip of his coffee and suppressed a chuckle at the mental image of Emma being anything other than brave. "That sounds like quite a fear, Swan. Perhaps I should help you overcome those fears or at least protect you from them. I could drive the lad to the docks today to avoid the sight for you."

"Can I ride with Killian?" Henry asked, acting as though he truly knew the man sitting there from more than a few minutes on various run-ins. She knew she couldn't say no to him, can't ignore the fact that he actually wants something enough to ask for it after months of saying he's fine and disparaging every offer she presents. She looked away from the hopeful expression to find its mirror image in Killian.

"You can't say no to both of us," Killian said, creating an alliance of sorts with Emma's son.

She leaned back on the vinyl of the diner's bench and folded her arms over her chest, resisting the urge to groan from the effort. "Fine, but you had better be on your best behavior," she said without directing the warning to either of them. Both of them looking to her earnestly and nodding in response.

***AAA***

Emma was on her second cup of hot chocolate, an extra dollop of whipped cream and a bit of fresh cinnamon practically dancing on her tongue as she exchanged a few text messages with Elsa and Anna about a bail jumper who was proving a little more elusive than the normal ones they found. She was a little annoyed by Anna's slow replies, as the woman seemed too distracted to have an actual conversation with an adult these days. Elsa was equally as annoyed, sending loaded two word messages to her sister and then profusely apologizing to Emma for the lack of professionalism. "We might as well open a day care," Elsa declared.

Trying to concentrate on the few clues and details that she had about this man who had managed to convince a judge he was merely a country bumpkin who had never been out of the county let alone the country, she began to feel the pressure building in her head. She hated to lose, hated it more than anything.

"I wanted to apologize," said the teacher's voice, sounding less perky than the day before and more contrite. "But I have to admit that expression you are wearing is a little intimidating. You look like you could take a chainsaw to someone."

Emma glanced up, her cup hovering half way to her mouth and her eyes blinking at the young teacher. "I might be capable of that, but not today," Emma said, the corners of her mouth twitching upward. "And there is no need to apologize. Killian explained that what I said probably came out wrong."

Mary Margaret smiled, gesturing toward the chair to ask permission and then sitting down. "Still, I can't believe I made that mistake," she said. "You don't even look like a stripper." She blushed furiously and shook her head. "Not that you couldn't be. I think you'd be good. Well, I've never actually…Anyway, I'm sorry."

There was something very much like Anna in that jumbled apology. The teacher pressing herself forward to the table and letting her voice drop on words like stripper. "Let's just pretend it didn't happen," Emma said. "I've been insulted more than someone thinking I was an exotic dancer. So we can move on and forget about it."

The brunette smiled. "We can start over?"

"Definitely," Emma said, thrusting out a hand. "I'm Emma Swan."

"Mary Margaret Nolan," she said in return. "I am so excited to have your son in the enrichment program. His teachers said wonderful things about him in his letters of recommendations. You are doing a great job with him." The two discussed a few child rearing ideas, focusing on academics mostly and a few thoughts about helping Henry with his grief over his father.

"You're doing a good job with him," Mary Margaret said, laughing a bit. "Yes, I realize that I just met him yesterday, but you can tell. He's polite, smart, and you're being a great sport about him getting to know his father's family." She admitted that losing her own mother had made her sensitive to such things, as had the loss of her father in college.

"You sound like you have great memories of them," Emma said after telling her she knew what it was like to be alone in that way. "I hope that Henry feels that he has memories of Neal."

Just as Killian had predicted to Emma, Mary Margaret immediate swooped in with her overprotective mode that included inviting both mother and son to dinner. "This has nothing to do with an apology and everything to do with getting you out and about. I love to cook and David would love to talk shop with you."

"Henry is supposed to go to a movie with the Golds tonight," Emma said, trying to remember the name of the flick. "I think Belle said they were having a screening at the library." She tugged at the hem of her shirt, a soft cotton that seemed to scream summer with its thin blue strips over crisp white. It had buttoned up with tiny white buttons, the top one undone to reveal a simple silver chain around her neck.

"That means you're free," Mary Margaret said. "You should come over about 6. Killian will give you directions." She threw her money down on the table and slid out of the chair easily. "See you then."

Emma was not sure why she had not protested more, not said that she was not planning on seeing Killian or why it bothered her that the assumption was there that she would see him. She'd even confided in the teacher that she rarely left Henry alone with people she knew, let alone strangers who popped up randomly and sailed boats. All Mary Margaret would say was the Killian was worth the trust.

She had no more time to ponder it as her phone buzzed again with a message. Preparing herself for more sisterly fights between Anna and Elsa, she sighed and swiped her finger across the phone screen. Sure enough there were two messages waiting for her. One was from Walsh with a simple sentence saying that he missed her. The other from Killian who had snapped a photo for her of Henry, the boy's hair messy on his head and his eyes bright with excitement. Her son was clutching a rope and obviously pulling on it with all his might, looking every bit the sailor.

**K: The lad seems to be a natural. **

**E: Shouldn't you be steering the boat or something. Aren't there laws about texting and sailing?**

**K: Just taking a moment to enjoy the view. I thought you might like to enjoy it with me.**

**E: Thank you. I'm somewhat relieved that your students haven't staged a mutiny and made you walk the plank yet.**

**K: I think I might like this side of you. Concerned and fretful over my well-being. And to think I was just sending you a photo of your son.**

**E: There is no side of me, but I guess I should say thank you.**

**K: You're welcome. Perhaps I could drive you to the Nolans tonight? Easier than walking.**

Of course he knew about that invitation, she thought. Mary Margaret had probably texted him the moment that she left the diner. But she had to admit that she knew him better than any of the other residents, which was not really saying that much. He would probably make dinner at a perky teacher's house tolerable and maybe even better since she could not deny that their dinner the night before was in his words, "quite lovely."

**E: When are you picking me up?**

***AAA***

Henry looked up from his practice knots to see the young blonde girl looking at him with curiosity. She'd done the same yesterday, whispering something to the boy he assumed was her brother about Henry not being from around there. It did make him a little self-conscious, knowing that everyone else had grown up within miles of each other. At the end of this, they would all see each other again and he would be back among his own classmates.

"Henry, right?"

He nodded his head with a little too much bounce. "Henry," he confirmed, sure that she was probably just going to go back to the other handful of children and report that she had survived talking to the new kid. "You are?"

"I'm Ava and that's my brother, Nicholas," she said, pointing at a dark haired boy who was perched on a rope ladder with one arm looped through an opening to hold himself in place. "He swears he'll be the first one to climb to the crosstrees. He's not afraid of heights."

Henry cast a glance upward at the space high up on the mast where Killian had told them he would see to it that they each got one chance to see the view. He'd told them that they couldn't really call themselves sailors without a trip up what he called the infinite ladder.

"I'm not either," she added quickly. "I can do anything he can." She smiled proudly. "He might be first, but I'll be second."

"I'll do it," Henry said, bravely looking at her with his dark eyes.

Killian's voice rang out as he called them all over to look at his latest lesson. He was not much like Mrs. Nolan who had lesson plans and scheduled things down the minute. He was more spontaneous and would call out and change course midway through if something struck him as more important. Henry liked them both, as they both seemed to know what they were talking about and didn't belittle him because he was only 12.

Henry paid close attention as the dark haired man demonstrated how to belay a line, asking a few of them to practice the new technique. He smiled at Henry in a friendly sort of way, a familiar look that Henry recognized from some of the men in the building where he and his mother lived. It was a look that men gave Henry before they flirted with his mother, a sort of conspiratorial smile that said they were looking for something more than a job as a babysitter.

"I think you'd make a fine barrelman," he said, revealing that he'd heard the exchange between Henry and Ava. "Just don't think too much about the height and it won't bother you. Don't worry. I'll keep you tethered until you're really up for it."

Swatting at a bug that hovered near his face, Henry frowned. "What's a barrelman?"

"He's the one who sits up top there in the crow's nest," Killian explained, squinting a bit as the sun reflected off the white sails. "A look out, if you will. You'd be the first to spot any enemies or in our case whales."

"The first?" Henry repeated, looking up the ladder a bit nervously. "That's all I'd have to do? Just watch."

"It's a bit more complicated than that, lad," Killian said. "You'd have to measure and estimate the distance and call out your findings to the group. It's a position of responsibility."

***AAA***

Emma waited on Walsh's reply to her text, brushing through her blonde hair and trying to be careful of the snarls and tangles. Since Killian was picking her up for dinner, she knew better than to leave it loose and flowing, as it had taken a full hour to calm it down the night before when he dropped them off. She sectioned the long blonde strands off carefully, braiding one over the other until she fastened the ends and threw the braid over her shoulder. It was a casual look, but Mary Margaret had said that dinner would consist of steaks on the grill and a few vegetables, nothing too exciting. So instead of one of the dresses she planned to wear to the Golds' house for their more formal events, Emma opted for a pair of red shorts with a red and white stripe top to go with it.

Emma heard the gentle knock at the door and called to Henry that Belle was there to pick him up. Opening the door to the soft spoken woman, she smiled and told her that Henry was just finishing cleaning up from his busy day.

"You won't be joining us?" Belle asked when Emma mentioned that dropping Henry back off would be fine since he had his own key.

"I'm having dinner at the Nolans' house." She thought she saw a brief frown on the young wife's face and hoped it was not expected for her to be at the Golds' beck and call. They had been quite generous with their money, but Emma did not feel it necessary to follow them around for tidbits about her ex-boyfriend. "That's not a problem is it? Henry's pretty self-sufficient."

Belle smiled and waved off the concern. "No, it's fine. I didn't realize you'd gotten to know Mary Margaret and David. I thought…well, I thought you only knew Killian Jones."

"And Ruby," Emma said, twisting on the back of her earring. "They all seem like nice people."

"Most of them are," Belle admitted. "The Nolans are great. You'll really like them. And Ruby is a riot. She keeps me laughing most of the time." Her eyes narrowed as she heard Henry call out that he was almost ready. "Killian…you need to watch out for him."

"What do you mean?" Emma asked, giving the same treatment to her other earring. "He seems…"

"He's not what he seems," Belle said with an air of mystery. "Look, I'm not going to say who you should get to know or not, but just be careful. Killian's not exactly the right kind of person for you."

Henry bounded into the room before Emma had a chance to ask what the young Mrs. Gold meant. Instead, she kissed the top of his head and told him she would see him later after his tour of the pawn shop and the movie screening. By the time Killian arrived to meet her, she had replayed Belle's cryptic warning a few dozen times in her head.

Unable to keep her thoughts to herself, she barely wasted any time after he said hello and asked if she'd gotten in any running that day. "What's the deal with Belle and you? Why does she dislike you?"

Killian's ran his hand down his face and then shifted it to the back of his neck where he rubbed as though trying to massage himself out of the tension he felt. "I'm afraid her opinion of me is a bit shaded by her husband," Killian said softly. "Probably by a few others in town too."

"You have a bad reputation?" Emma asked, throwing her phone and key into her bag. "I would have never guessed."

"Neal's father owned a racing yacht and we used to crew for him sometimes on some of the minor races," he said, his eyes drifting toward the curtained windows as though the answers might be there. "Neal and I decided after a few drinks one night that we'd take her out for a midnight sail. Thought that we could go over to this island not far from here and meet some women. We were 19, but who was going to resist us with a boat like that."

Emma was quiet, trying to recall if Neal had ever mentioned sailing before. She could not really picture it, the man she knew was not that type.

"We got there in one piece and had a grand time with some of the locals and a few tourists. The bartender was turning a blind eye to our ages, but the owner wasn't as forgiving. He called Neal's house to tell his father, but got his mother instead – Milah. She came out over the bridge to pick us up."

"I'm sure she was angry," Emma said, thinking through her conversations with Neal again for any recollection of his mother. She did not remember him ever mentioning the woman. "I would be if I got a call like that about Henry."

"Aye, she was livid," he said. "She'd been at some party for a charity or something when the call came in. She snuck off and left her husband there. Neal was begging her not to tell him and she finally agreed, saying that she'd bring us back over in the morning to pick up the yacht. He'd never know."

"He found out?"

"Mrs. Gold was not in any condition to drive herself. It was a bloody miracle she'd made it out to the island without incident. I'd had the least to drink of all of us and…so I drove her car." He frowned, his hand curling and uncurling as though the motion helped to remind him that it was still there. "It was dark. I was better on sea than on land. I can give you a hundred excuses, but I lost control on the bridge and we went through the railing."

She flinched, the fear that Henry had spoken of about her and bridges was quite real. Hearing that something like that had happened only served to make it play out in her head. The fear they must have felt banged in her chest and the sensation of falling twirled around her. "Oh God."

"Neal was able to swim out through the rear window to safety. When we didn't follow, he jumped back in and dove down to us. My hand was caught below the steering column. He freed me and got me above water. But it was too late for her. He got her out of the car, but she wasn't breathing. He worked on her until the paramedics arrived. She never showed any signs that she could recover."

"That's how you lost your hand?" Emma asked.

"Aye," he gave a short laugh. "They said I was lucky that was all. If he'd gone for her first, I'd have not survived at all."

"Would she?" Emma asked, knowing that was probably a tough question to answer.

"No," he said. "The doctors said she sustained a head injury prior to the water that would have been fatal. Still doesn't change things though. The Golds saw me as the culprit. I was driving. I had said I was sober enough."

"You were young and you tried to do the best you could…"

He laughed again, tight and restrictive with his face showing pain as he looked down at his good hand. "I've told myself that. I've made excuses. But I was driving. I was drunk. Neal, his father, and most of this town saw it that way. People forgive, but they don't forget. I know that. The Golds blamed me and I took that blame. It was my fault."

She watched him rake his hand through his hair and try to brush back the thoughts that were probably always simmering under the surface. "I know guilty people," she said softly. "It's my job. I see them. I see how they operate. Some of them never get it. They don't see that what they did was wrong or bad. They blame others."

He finally looked up to her concerned countenance. "And I'm like that?"

"No," she answered quickly. "I think you're the opposite. You aren't a bad guy, Killian."

**_So I'm sitting here on bed rest and your reviews are the thing keeping me going. Hook me up, please. _**


	6. Chapter 6

**_A/N: So originally this first conversation and the dinner at the Nolans' house was going to take place in the last chapter, but as you can see this got away from me. I'm sorry, but not sorry. _**

The ride to the Nolan's craftsman style home was not necessarily long, but it was pretty quiet as Killian expertly navigated the streets and Emma pretended to concentrate on her phone rather than the awkward silence. Walsh still had not responded and Elsa told her that she was taking the night off and hoped she'd do the same. Killian's pensive face said that he was not completely done with his admissions nor was he going to be content for her to think anything of him that was not completely true.

"I'm a little surprised," he said, flipping the sun visor down when a red light caused them to stop though no other traffic was coming through the intersection. "I assumed that once I told you what had happened that you would find an excuse to bail on tonight."

Lowering the phone to her lap, she considered this for a moment. "Killian," she said with a measure of control in her voice, "I'm not exactly one to judge people. You can check my own past for plenty of examples of bad decisions. And I can't forget that Neal told me none of this. You'd think he would have said something given the magnitude of what happened."

He was quiet, his right hand tight on the steering wheel as he drove forward and then pulled into an empty parking lot of what used to be a gas station that was now out of business and deserted. Neal was not someone who forgave easily and despite the assurances from the doctors that he had done the right thing, he had blamed both himself and Killian for the accident. The two friends had rarely spoken after that and eventually not at all. People assumed things, which he'd allowed. It wasn't so much that he told people his version, instead he had let people believe the most convenient version and did not correct them.

"Either way, I'm glad you told me," she said, ignoring the silence to say what she was thinking at that moment. "But something is bothering me about it," she said, crossing her legs at the ankles. "You said something to us last night about losing your hand in an explosion. Was there an explosion in the car accident?"

Killian's skin faded as the question hung in the air and he muttered something under his breath before he answered her. "The recovery from the accident was not as difficult as one might think and most of that was done in a 60 day stint in the county jail. I was in a bit of denial, I suppose. I left the jail and didn't really care to see anyone from my life. I didn't want to see the pity or answer any questions. My brother did his best to keep an eye on me and ferry me back and forth to physical and occupational therapy. However, I was not really trying to recover. I didn't think I deserved that. I was pretty angry that I even survived."

"Sounds like you were in a bad place," she said, contemplating telling him that he could keep that part of the story to himself. She did not like the feelings that it stirred inside her. She wasn't even sure how she felt about him after hearing all this.

"Aye," he said, squinting as the sun shone off the water and they turned down another road. "Liam did his best, but I thought it best if I started over someplace else. I was a young lad still and full of more ideas than money in my pockets. So most of my recovery consisted of me hiding out. People around here assumed that I was out partying and living it up on the money I didn't have, never realizing that I was drinking away the memories and trying to figure out simple things like tying my shoes with only one hand."

Looking at the clock on the dash he apologized and said he couldn't really have them being late. She finally had to remind him to explain his words about the explosion when he slowed the jeep as they entered a residential neighborhood, guiding the vehicle over the speed bumps carefully. "Someone stole Gold's boat again and my brother, among other people assumed that I was the culprit. He heard that it was docked at a rarely used place a few miles from here and went to find me. Just as he went aboard, there was an explosion. He was killed instantly. I wasn't even there, but some people assumed I was at fault for that too."

"Who would have done that?"

Killian ducked his head a bit, still keeping his eyes on the road. "People had theories. A faulty wiring job was done to steal the yacht was the most popular. Some thought Mr. Gold did it himself for the insurance money since he'd had some bad investments and spent a fortune on a defense to keep Neal out of jail for some petty theft thing. Nobody ever figured it out. But it sort of forced my hand, pun not intended. I was now without a family and without a hand. I never really said to people that I lost it in the car accident. They assumed – since it was the first they had seen of me since the accident – that it must have been during the explosion on the boat. Made sense I guess. There were stories of me being heroic and trying to save my brother and other stories of me injuring myself setting a bomb. It made for a better tale than me waiting to die under the water."

"And you let them believe that?" she asked, considering his words and hers. "Why?"

"Aye," he said. "It seemed preferable. Gold had pushed a lot of things under the rug so that Neal and I would not get in so much trouble. A 60 day sentence was minor in the scheme of things. What I told you about Neal running off after graduation was true. He did that. He also came back to town to see his friends quite frequently for a while. After his mother's death that stopped. He couldn't bear to see the place. Or his friends either."

Her lips turned down. "He brought me here once," she said. Some party on the beach with a bonfire. I met Ruby and some others, I guess."

Looking sadly at the house they were pulling up in front of with a happy Mary Margaret on the porch, he nodded. "He kept some friends here for a while, but eventually it became too much. That happens, I suppose. Even without the tragedy of losing people you love. People move on and you lose touch." He cleared his throat into a clenched fist before he shifted the jeep into park. "Now, I have to warn you, love. Mary Margaret is about to give you the most cheerful third degree of your life. I hope you're ready."

***AAA***

In Emma's experience, sheriffs were typically overweight has-beens who had some score to settle and liked to relive their glory days. David Nolan was nothing like that. Bent over the grill that had been built into the deck behind the house he and his wife had recently purchased and customized, the grill was every tailgaters dream. As Emma sat in one of the Adirondack chairs next to Mary Margaret and watched Killian attempt to instruct the sheriff on the right food placement on the grill, she found herself thinking about such things.

She could picture this same backyard in the early autumn with the leaves on the trees beginning to change and a football game on the large television she had spotted in the living room. Burgers and hot dogs would be grilling and the smell of smoke would waft and infiltrate everything as people gathered in small groups during the commercials to drink beer and talk about the prospects for the season. There would be good natured teasing and jokes that had been going on for years, children playing in the flat area that David was quick to point out he had reserved for an in ground swimming pool.

"I'm proud he survived the first day of his teaching experience," Mary Margaret said, folding her legs up on the chair and tilting her head skyward as the clouds changed to colorful wisps. "Kids that age are intimidating."

Emma nodded, not trusting herself with a compliment to a man she was not sure she knew all that well. His confession and later explanation were replaying themselves in her mind, over and over again with growing regularity. She was aware that his revelations would be deal breakers to other people, red flags on display. However, she could not help the feeling that seemed to grow inside her that he had trusted her with the truth, something he clearly did not do with just anyone.

"So what does he do?" Mary Margaret asked, looking patient as Emma wondered how many questions she had asked that she had not heard.

"Excuse me?" The collie that Mary Margaret called their fur baby curled at Emma's feet, having run and chased squirrels until he collapsed in a panting and friendly heap.

"Your boyfriend? What does he do?" Her look is so innocent that it almost belongs in an animated movie. She practically had a soundtrack. "Is he coming up to visit while you're here?"

Emma looked at the phone she had set on the table between them and grimaced. "He owns a furniture store. Nice place. He probably make it up here. It's a bit far and he's busy with some custom projects."

The woman smiled and pointed over at the doors to the living room. "We just bought a ton of hand carved stuff from Marco here in Storybrooke. Everyone says he's the best, but he's so expensive. I swear it's like giving up your first born child for a simple wardrobe." She shuddered mockingly. "But his stuff is great. It lasts forever."

"Walsh uses Marco for some of his projects," she said. "I've seen his work. It's great. Walsh used to do a lot of his own carving and carpentry work himself, but he got too busy."

"Sounds like Aiden on Sex and the City."

Emma tried to picture Walsh as Aiden, but failed when she couldn't see herself as Carrie. And if that was the analogy, who was Big?

There was something easy going about the woman, a quiet confidence and happiness that Emma did not think was possible in her own life. They talked easily about everything to do with the house, the trials of near teenagers and the pitfalls of standardized testing when Killian and David joined them.

"I thought you were going to get the stuff together for the salad," David accused, his hand pointing toward where tomatoes were resting in the window sill of the kitchen and his other hand on his hip. "You didn't even bring us a beer."

"My husband is a cry baby," Mary Margaret said, dramatically pretending that getting up from the chair would mean a great sacrifice.

Emma stood quickly, ignoring the still lingering muscle pains. "Stay where you are," she said, brushing aside the woman's protest when she realized what Emma intended. "I can make a salad. Since I didn't even think to bring wine or a dessert, it is the least I can do."

David chuckled at his wife's weak but persistent protests and Killian's flustered offers to help her. He brushed both of them aside and jogged to catch up with Emma, telling the other two that he was going to show their guest her way around and get the salad made in record time. He even challenged Killian to time him on the new stop watch he had downloaded for his phone.

The sheriff grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and popped the cap easily. Pulling paring knife from Emma's hand, he replaced it with the empty bottle and began to run the vegetables under a stream of water from the sink. "Two rules in this house, Emma," he said. "First, don't take my wife too seriously. She's a wonderful teacher, a great woman, a loving friend and wife, and a mother to everyone she meets. If you ever had a spot on your face, she's the one who will clean it with mom spit."

"Good to know," Emma said, one hip against the counter and the cold beer in her hands. "I'll try not to get messy around her."

"That brings us to rule two," he said, placing the last of the cleaned veggies in a basket that he carried over to the tiled island. As he moved away from the sink she could see through the window that Mary Margaret had turned her attentions to Killian, wagging a finger at him with a kind but stern face. He looked vaguely amused but mostly like a young boy being chastised fully. Mother indeed, Emma thought, imagining some lecture about Killian's behavior or diet. The collie, which Emma remembered was named Snow, had found the conversation too disturbing to her rest and made her way inside where she sat impatiently in the doorway between the kitchen and living room.

"You have a rule about cleanliness?" Emma supplied, her grin forced when she realized he had not fully explained since he was watching her and where her gaze was at that moment.

"No," he said with a chuckle. "Rule two in this house is that what Mary Margaret wants is what she gets." The knife slid easily into the plump tomato, even slices coming out as a result and then finely diced as he changed direction.

Emma's tongue ran along the inside of her cheek as she watched his precision. "Have I in some way offended her?" she asked. "If I have…"

"No," he said with that same easy chuckle. "It's not anything like that. I only mean to warn you because you are in danger." He let the words fall as though he was speaking to some mob informant about to enter witness protection. They seemed emotionless and flat, punctuated with the sound of the knife on the cutting board. He wiped his free hand on the faded denim of his jeans and opened a drawer beside him to pull out a peeler. "Know your way around one of these?"

She placed the beer on the counter and took it from him, peeling one of the cucumbers with long strokes. "How am I in danger?" She looked at him with wide eyes before she turned them downward toward the vegetable in her hand. "Care to explain what I should watch for?"

"It's not a violent thing. My wife," he said with a tilt of his head in the general direction outside as if Emma might be confused about her identity, "is determined that you and Killian are destined to be together. She's sizing you up tonight. Seeing if her gut instinct is right."

Emma gasped a little as she took too much of the flesh off with the peeler. "Forgive me, David," she said, remembering his earlier instructions to call him by his name rather than his title. "But I don't really trust your wife's judgment. She did think I was an exotic dancer."

David's laugh was loud and startled even the dog. "I knew I liked you," he said, pointing the tip of his knife at her playfully. "My wife is usually a better judge than that. But in her defense, she did think you were a successful one. So maybe it was a compliment. And I have to confess that Killian and I were dumb enough to not question her on it."

Emma smiled back, tossing her thick braid behind her shoulder. "Your wife also forgets that I have a boyfriend," she said. "I'm not really in the market for someone to date. Especially when I'm only here a short time."

"Valid points," David said, stealing one of the bits of tomato to pop in his mouth. "You do realize that is not that big of a hurdle in my wife's mind. You see I was practically engaged to another woman when she and I met. She was picking up a watch she'd had repaired and I was picking up my mother's engagement ring that I'd had resized. The stupid jeweler mixed the two up."

"I hope it was an expensive watch," Emma said, laughing and grabbing a knife out of the block to slice the now peeled cucumbers. "Otherwise you might have a good lawsuit."

"I chased her down the street to switch the packages and she thought I was trying to rob her. She picked up a rock and hit me with it. Almost knocked me out." He pointed to a scar near his eyebrow. "I found her annoying, rude, and incredibly beautiful. It was impossible to stay mad at her even as my head was bleeding from her little tantrum."

"You fell in love over a rock?" Emma asked, wondering where he was going with this. She was again struck by the way he was not a stereotypical sheriff. He wore jeans instead of a uniform. A thin plaid shirt sat unbuttoned atop a shirt that advertised some beach bar she wasn't sure existed. Other than the wrinkled creases from his shoulder holster, she could see no signs of his law enforcement background.

"She opened her bag to prove me wrong and found the ring in there. She apologized, after she tried it on while I told her it was meant for Kathryn. Then she told me that she didn't think it was going to work out. She said she knew my fiancé and that I should thank her for delaying the proposal. She told me that I deserved better. She was right. Two nights later Kathryn and I broke up when she reunited with her ex and Mary Margaret and I started dating a week later."

"Wow," Emma said, casting a glance at the woman through the window. "Sounds like I should ask her for some lotto numbers."

"I'm just telling you to keep an open mind," David said. "I don't know you. I just met you. But I can tell that Killian thinks you're something special. And he's…"

"A good guy?" Emma finished with a laugh, finishing off the carrots she had started on after the cucumbers. "Your wife and Ruby have told me."

He began to mix the salad ingredients in the bowl and asked Emma to get the homemade vinaigrette from the refrigerator. "I try not to argue with women," he said. "It's not a chauvinist thing. I just recognize that they are better at it than I am."

***AAA***

David was a master storyteller with the vocal assistance from Killian and Mary Margaret. The three of them had Emma and each other in stitches as they told of David's attempts to catch a burglar who turned out to be a sleepwalking five year old and Mary Margaret's penchant for true crime shows that made her suspicious of anyone and everyone for at least 24 hours after a good one.

"I should be getting back," Emma said for about the third time, making no move from her seat in the Adirondack chair that had been pulled with the others to form a group around a fire pit. She had to admit that despite David's warning, the intimate looks from Killian, and Mary Margaret's friendly but persistent questions about everything from her dental health to her favorite movies, she had had a good time.

"You have to invite her for this weekend," Mary Margaret said to Killian as he stood up and stretched his arms with a loud groan over his head. "Henry's going to be with the group going camping. We're going to take the boat out. It'll be fun."

Killian looked toward Emma who was trying not to appear interested in what the teacher was describing. His smile was bright as he leaned down and kissed the brunette's cheek and squeezed her shoulder slightly. "I guess it would be rude not to since you just described it in detail."

Emma laughed, only hesitating a moment when he held out his hand to pull her up to her feet. She allowed the simple touch and ignored that she actually liked the way his fingers lightly touched hers. She was pulling her bag over her shoulder when Mary Margaret ran into the house and back out again with bags for both Emma and Killian. "Leftovers," she said, telling Emma that Ruby would allow her to use the diner's cooler. "I never send anyone home empty handed.

Emma's mouth opened to protest, but Killian shook his head. "Don't even bother, love," he said with a laugh. "If you refuse, she'll just send them home with Henry tomorrow. You can't win."

David sort of coughed out the words, "rule two," as Mary Margaret's hand dangled the cloth shopping bag in front of her. Emma rolled her eyes and took it, thanking her and then feeling herself being pulled into hug. It was a bit odd in that she had not hugged anyone except Walsh and Henry in a long time. She did not even remember hugging Elsa and Anna, two of her best friends.

"She's a hugger," David said, clapping his hands on Emma and Killian's shoulders simultaneously. "It's a good thing if she likes you."

"Don't analyze me," Mary Margaret said, pulling back from the blonde woman and sighing. She gave her husband a look and then kept her eyes back on Emma. "I have enjoyed getting to know you, Emma. You'll come back won't you? Dinner? Bring Henry next time."

Emma nodded, smiling. "Thank you for dinner."

It was Killian who was finally able to pull her away, bidding them good night and promising that he will be over later in the week to help with a project in the yard. He again made a little bow as he opened the door to the jeep to let her in, gently closing it after she had fastened her seat belt.

"They really think of you as family," she said after Killian did not say anything at first. "It was a weird son/brother vibe." She considers that for a moment with Killian's laughter ringing in her ears.

"I'm not sure that is a flattering description, love," he said. "But more than that, I'm just glad you liked them. You seemed to have enjoyed yourself." The hum of the engine and roar of the tires on the street play along with the sounds of their mingled laughter as he explains some of the jokes that he shared with David.

They are about half way to the bed and breakfast when Killian's mood darkens a bit. "About this weekend, Emma," he said hesitantly. "I don't want you to feel like you have to go."

She swiped her finger across the surface of her phone and found the message waiting from Walsh. It was a simple one telling her that he had been busy and he'd try and call tomorrow. Emma frowned a bit as she reread it and asked herself what exactly was missing from the short reply. "Are you disinviting me?" she asked with a nervous laugh. "I thought you wanted to show me this town."

She was glad the inside of the vehicle was dark because she knew she was blushing. That question and sentence had sounded remarkably like flirting to her ears, which was not what she wanted. However, she knew calling attention to her error would only cause her more grief. To her relief he did not seem to take the bait.

"Love, of course you're invited. David has a nice little speed demon and we usually try to take it out for a little skiing or parasailing a few times each summer. This will be the first time we go." She was not looking at him at all, staring out what would have been the window into the darkness as though she could see something out there. "Emma?"

"Maybe I shouldn't," she said suddenly, her voice timid. "I mean. I have…"

"Your boyfriend might want to come up this weekend," Killian said, offering her a way out of this without much fanfare. "There's room if he would like to come along too."

Emma nodded, knowing that he could not see. "I'll let you know." She pushed back in her seat, looking out of the top of the jeep at a night sky that was peppered with stars. It was something she missed out on by living in such an urban setting. Breathing in deeply, she shut her eyes and reopened to the same seen with the jeep moving slower. "I'm not used to seeing so many stars."

"I guess not," he said. "Probably not much time to stop and enjoy them if you did see them." He turned the steering wheel sharply to the left and into a dark parking lot. "Maybe for a few minutes?"

She did not answer, waiting while he put the jeep in park, cut the lights and then the engine. He reached his arm over himself and reclined the seat back so that he was partially lying down and told Emma where to find her own lever. Texting Henry, she learned that he was hanging out with Ruby and playing some card game that had him winning fries instead of money. She hesitated but repeated the motion and found herself staring up at the sky again. "Do I need to remind you that this isn't a date, Killian?"

He chuckled. "No, love, I'm well aware that you aren't interested in me like that. I'm just trying to enjoy a nice view." He waited a beat. "And besides I could make this much more romantic with a blanket and some wine if I wanted to woo you."

"It is nice," she said, breathing in the salty air that indicated that was the ocean in front of them. "Thank you for stopping to look at them."

He turned his head on the rest to look at her, grinning a bit at the awed expression. "I never took you for much of a nature lover, Swan."

"I'm full of surprises," she teased, tilting her chin back. "I think it is more the history that I like than the actual science behind the stars or the nature. I know you as a sailor like to see them as tools. They guide you, right? Well, I see them and realize that they are always there. Even when I'm home and I can't see them for the smog and the lights. They are still there. Just waiting for you to get a place or a point where you can see them."

"Maybe it is a little bit like faith," he said turning back to look skyward. "It's believing in something you can't prove or see."

"Deep thoughts," she said. "I think I like the fact that the stars that I see are the same ones that my parents saw. And their parents and so on. They are the same stars that my son sees."

"Deep thoughts," he repeated, his own sigh matching hers. "You never really talk about your family other than Henry. Are you close with them?"

She blinked, trying to focus on the night sky overhead. She'd asked for this by bringing up the idea of a family, a connection to the past that she did not have. It wasn't a fun conversation, as it was filled with labels like abandoned and orphan. She wasn't sure she wanted to share it, as she usually just referred to herself as a foster child and left it at that. But there was something in his earnest voice that made her want to answer his question. He was not just asking it to make conversation. He had made quite a few tough confessions himself earlier that day and had been surprised that she had not run away from him. Did she owe him that same chance?

"I'm afraid I don't know anything about my family," she said, waiting on that inevitable string of questions about how could that be or how could anyone not want an adorable little girl with blonde curls and a bright smile and eyes. There were no answers for that for her. How could she answer for people she did not know?

He waited for her to continue, lifting his head up to gauge her reaction. "I'd say there is a story there, love, but I don't want to pry."

Later she would tell herself that it was that statement that made the dam burst. She confessed her own story to him, including being found on the side of the road and a long string of foster homes that varied from tolerable to horrible. "I hate to admit it, but I guess it has shaped my life more than I care to think it has. Trust issues. No real sense of home. Bad decisions coming easily."

He watched as she shivered a bit when the breeze rustled over them, her arms going around herself in a near hug. Reaching his hand into the backseat, he pulled out a green blanket that Emma could tell was well worn and used but smelled of that same laundry soap that Killian used. She briefly tried to picture him being domestic like that and doing laundry, but realized quickly that wasn't something she could imagine. Mary Margaret probably did his laundry while he did odd jobs around their house.

"This is half of what you promised to use if you were trying to woo me," she reminded him, accepting the warm blanket as he pulled it over her. "Have you changed your tactics?"

"I don't see any wine so I think you're safe for now, love," he answered. "And in response to your theory that growing up in foster care changed you, I suppose I would have to think it did." He held his hand up to stop her response that was clearly on the tip of her tongue. "I don't think that's a bad thing. You say you don't trust people. While clearly that can make things a bit lonely, I find that it is prudent to be wary of people's intentions. We have to rely on our instincts sometimes. And you, love, appear to be very perceptive about those things. As for a sense of home, that's another issue all together. I can imagine that home was a hard concept for you growing up, but with your boy you have that now. He's what makes you feel at home. And as for the bad decisions, they aren't limited to someone who grew up in foster care. I think your childhood and life so far has made you a smart, loving woman, who has a great son, a career she loves, and a life she could learn to accept if she let down a few walls."

She folded her arms under the blanket, pulling it up under her chin and making him laugh at the childish gesture. "You think those things?"

He dropped her gaze, looking down toward the console and his lap. "Well, I'm sort of feeling my way along here, love. I'm not sure what to say that won't make you run away from me."

She grinned without showing her teeth, watching as he tried to regain his composure. "You're doing a good job," she said, pulling an arm out of the confines of her blanket to point down at the floorboard. "See, I felt comfortable enough that I slipped out of my sandals. I can't run without my shoes."

"Progress," he said with mock pride. "You act like nobody's ever said those things to you, Emma. Doesn't your boyfriend tell you how strong and beautiful you are? Doesn't he tell you every day that you are bloody brilliant?"

"Not in those words," Emma said, she pulled out her phone and looked at the tine on the screen. "We better get back. I wasn't really planning on Ruby babysitting."

"Aye, I'll return you to your humble abode." He pulled the lever again, his seat jerking him upwards.

A few minutes later he was walking with her inside the diner to fetch her son, feigning a hunger for chili cheese fries as Emma gathered their belongings and hesitated before him to say good night. She offered the obligatory thank you and told him again that she enjoyed getting to know him and his friends better.

"Thank you for joining me," he said sincerely, dropping the flirtatious innuendo. "But just so you know, love. I'd tell you every day how bloody brilliant you are, Emma. Good night."

**_I kind of really enjoyed writing this chapter. It might seem a bit out of character for Emma to get past the fact that Killian initially lied about his hand, but I tried to take it in a different direction. I was trying to show that he was letting her in instead of letting her believe what others believed. I think she would recognize that and appreciate it about him. _**

**_I also couldn't remember if I had the Nolans living in a loft in the previous chapters. If I did, sorry. I need them in a house for reasons. Pregnancy brain kind of sucks. _**

_**For those of you following Deserted. The epilogue will be up this week. I was about to post it and realized I hated a big portion of it. So I am rewriting.**_


	7. Chapter 7

**_Moving right along with a relatively long chapter…again, thanks for the kudos, comments, follows, and favorites. _**

"My mom has a boyfriend," Henry announced as the jeep pulled into the parking lot closest to the docks. "His name is Walsh."

For this, the second morning of sea study, Killian had not even asked about driving Henry, instead showing up and jingling the keys with a wink. They had been getting ready to go down for breakfast when he arrived, a box of doughnuts balanced in the crook of his arm and a cardboard carrier that included two hot chocolates and a coffee with a cup of creamer containers, sugar, cinnamon, and tiny whipped cream packets in the empty spot. His keys had been dangling from one finger. Emma had given a half-hearted that wasn't necessary and then dug in with the guys.

Killian's eyebrow shot up in surprise since the prior conversation had been about whales and the possibility that they might see some that day. He had not been talking to Henry about Emma, nor had he even hinted at anything of the sort. He remembered from the brief time after his father left that some guys tried to get to his mother through him and his brother. They bought them things, offered tickets to sporting events or amusement parks, and called them buddy or sport a lot. He did not want to be one of those guys.

"She told me," Killian said when the boy's eyes would not look away and he would not offer any other explanation.

"I think she likes him," Henry added.

"She must if he's her boyfriend," Killian responded. At least he knew the man's name now. It was not as though Emma offered much in that regard. Mary Margaret had gotten a few details too. There was something about custom furniture. He wasn't sure because she had called him before his alarm went off and demanded to know when he was planning to see Emma again.

"He likes her too." This did not come out as a warning, but more of a statement that Henry was trying to sort through. "My mom doesn't usually let me meet guys she dates. It's like she doesn't want to admit it."

"I'm sure she's just trying to protect you." It was still dark in the parking lot and Killian could not help but think that just a few hours before Emma had been in that same seat next to him. "Some guys are kind of jerks when they date a woman. She doesn't want you to see that."

"She lets me talk to you," Henry said thoughtfully. "I mean Walsh has never driven me anywhere or anything. I think she trusts you."

Killian's eyebrow shot up again with surprise. "I'm not dating your mother," he said, the words sticking a bit in his mouth, but intent and reality were not the same thing. "We're just friends."

The nod from Henry was a bit slow, careful and hesitant as he watched Killian's expression. "You want to though," he said, making it clear that he was as perceptive as his mother and what Killian could remember of his father. "I've seen guys who were more subtle when they ask her out at the grocery store or waiting on the subway."

Raking his hand through his hair, Killian suppressed a groan. This was why he did not enjoy children after a certain age. They could see through him better than adults. "Your mother is a beautiful woman. So when I first met her I did have designs on asking her out, but she's also a smart, strong and determined woman. She told me she had a boyfriend and that nothing could happen between us. So we're just friends."

Henry knew this. He'd heard his mom on the phone with Elsa saying she felt bad about turning Killian down. "So that's why you're nice to me? Because you think my mom might change her mind?"

So that was it, Killian thought as he cut the engine. "Henry," he said in the strongest yet nicest voice he could muster. "I am nice to you because I think you're a great kid. I can tell you doing this summer program because it interests you and not because other people expect you to do it or want you to do it. You're funny. You're smart. And you're pretty cool to be around. None of those things have to do with your mom."

Seemingly satisfied with the answer, Henry bounded out of the jeep and in the direction of the boat without another question about Killian or his intentions.

***AAA***

"You could come up for just Saturday," Emma said into the phone, feeling a bit of a headache coming on as Walsh responded in his typical fashion. If he did not want to give an answer or wanted to avoid a topic, he asked questions.

While she had not asked that dreaded question of what are you wearing, she had no doubt that the man was dressed to the nines in a perfect suit and shined shoes. In the short time they had been dating, she'd never seen him in sweats or even jeans. She wondered briefly if he even owned any or what he would think about the fact she was still in her pajamas since Killian had delivered breakfast.

"How long of a drive is it?" he asked for what felt like the hundredth time.

"It'll just take you a few hours," she said. "You could get a room at Granny's if you wanted to avoid driving back right away."

"You aren't inviting me to stay with you in your room?" he asked. She flinched at the thought. That's what a girlfriend would do, she admitted to herself. She should be excited by the idea and not bristling that he would want to spend time with her. It wasn't as though they had not been intimate, but she knew that he would not leave afterward. It was sure to be an entire night of him wanting to snuggle and her trying to find excuses not to do so.

"Not with Henry in the room next door. The rooms connect." She was lying. Henry was going on a camping trip with his program classmates, Robin, and some guy named John. Maybe she could spring that on Walsh after he arrived, a nice surprise.

"And it's just a few hours?"

Emma suppressed a groan. "Yes, you'll love it here."

She could picture him licking his lips like he usually did. She noticed that Killian did that too, but when he did it there was a sexiness to the move as though he was imagining tasting what he was looking at right then. With Walsh, Emma was reminded somehow of a lizard. "Who all is going on this little boat?"

Emma rattled off the list of names again, not bothering with the descriptions since this was hardly a serious question from him. "Why don't you just think about it?"

"I will think about it," he said as though she had not just suggested the same thing. "It's been pretty busy here lately. You know you could come back here for the weekend. Henry probably misses his friends."

"I want to go out on the boat. It sounds like fun." She wasn't lying about that. It did sound fun, even for a woman who had some fears of the water. Killian had told her about some of the things they were planning, promising to not pressure her into any of them. She liked the idea that he would be there and looking out for her in a way. "You think about it. I'm going to go see about my car."

***AAA***

Emma finally gave in and got dressed when a call from Belle had rousted her out from scanning her laptop – a new purchase from the Golds to keep her from missing too much at work – for details about a case she might have to testify about in the next few weeks. She hated that she was truly enjoying the new laptop that did not take so much time to boot up that she could make a pot of coffee and run down to a bodega for snacks. There was something disconcerting about taking the Golds' money, pretending like Neal would have been okay with their son being here with the man that was such a bad father that Neal had changed his name.

"He'd like to have lunch with you at the shop," Belle had said almost apologetically. "I know that…well…do you think you could make it?"

Realizing that Mr. Gold's old fashioned nature meant that she did need to get to know the man too, Emma had put on her most conservative outfit and headed toward the shop. She made it with time to spare, only getting sidetracked once when Leroy called and confirmed her car was ready. He would bring it by for her that night.

Without much of an excuse not to go to lunch with Mr. Gold other than the leftovers from Mary Margaret, Emma headed that way. She blinked rapidly as she entered the shop from the brightly sunlit street. The dark wood and dim lights wreaked havoc with her vision for a moment. "Mr. Gold?" she called out, opening one eye and then other in an attempt to better her vision. "Are you here?"

The man pushed through a heavy velvety curtain and gave her what Emma would later describe as a sickeningly sweet smile. "Welcome, Ms. Swan," he said in an almost indeterminable accent. "I trust you had no trouble getting here?"

Emma smiled back, a little uneasy with the way he watched her so carefully as though she might break one of the trinkets that seemed to range from priceless to worthless. "It was a short walk," she told him, silently thanking Leroy and whoever else was necessary that her car was ready and she could pick it up that afternoon.

"I appreciate your agreeing to meet with me," he said, pointing to a table that had been set up in the corner of the store with various covered dishes that were clearly not from Granny's. "I would have come to you, but my wife is meeting with the library board and I cannot really afford to close my shop again. Not after my recent episode in the hospital." It was the first time he had mentioned hospital to Emma, referring to the heart issues as some vague unpleasantness.

"Of course," Emma said, taking the seat across from him and remembering precious little from her etiquette lessons that she had suffered when one of the other foster children decided to have daily tea parties. She decided to err on the side of safety and just follow the man's lead, mimicking everything from the way he unfolded his napkin to how he held his spoon over the cold soup that she had to admit was socking to her system.

"My wife," he said, again not mentioning Belle by name, "and I are attending a concert in Portland tonight and won't be back until midmorning. While Henry is certainly invited to join us, I'm not under the illusion that he's a fan of the opera."

"No, I'm afraid he's not," Emma said, actually thankful for an evening free of the Golds. While she had no plans yet, she was sure they could come up with something. "But he's been so involved with this enrichment project that he could probably use an evening to rest."

Mr. Gold offered that same expression to her, one of sweetness disguised. "I am glad to hear that he's enjoying the experience that Storybrooke Academy can offer. Their full-time faculty is top notch. It's quite a good school, despite some of the lackadaisical practices of this summer session. I think a boy like Henry would thrive there. Not only is the school academically sound, the people who send their children there are the right kind of people." He smeared a bit of butter on a toast point and nibbled at it like a rat eating cheese. Emma almost expected his nose to wiggle with the effort.

"It does seem great," Emma said, having to wonder if he would categorize her as the right kind of people if she wasn't the mother of his grandson.

"I knew you would think so," he said, widening his smile. "You see, Ms. Swan, Neal was my only child. Belle and I have not had children and it seems unlikely given my health concerns. I wouldn't wish for her to have to raise a child alone." His voice dropped on the final word as though that were a fate worse than death. "With Neal's untimely death, that leaves Henry as my sole heir."

Emma shifted uncomfortably in the wooden chair, the wood grinding against itself in a moaning sound that was loud in the otherwise silent room. "Henry's here to get to know you and perhaps learn about Neal and his childhood. I didn't bring him here to be an heir."

"You must realize, Ms. Swan, that my portfolio of investments is substantial. I have invested heavily in stocks, bonds, and real estate. That honestly takes the majority of my time, as the store can practically run itself when I have good staff. However, the real estate end of things is trickier. I must give it my attention constantly. That's why I've been thinking of taking someone on. Training them, if you will, for a larger role in the business."

"That sounds like a good idea," she offered, not sure of his intentions. He clearly did not want investment advice from her. As for real estate, she'd never owned property in her life. She was a renter, not a landlord.

"It won't be easy," he admitted. "You see, I must be selective. I don't want to let just anyone into this business. For he or she will be running things long after my death until Henry is old enough to take over."

Emma's eyes narrowed on the man's attempt at a benign expression. "Henry's 12," she reminded him a bit too sharply. To soften her tone, she tried to laugh at herself through the next statement. "I don't think he even knows what electives he wants to take at school let alone whether or not he wants to run your investments."

The man did not look at all amused. "Henry is only 12. I am aware of that and can understand that he may not fully grasp the responsibility yet. Perhaps I'm not explaining myself well enough. I want Henry to move here to Storybrooke. I will pay his tuition for him to attend the academy. I'm even willing to pay for you and your son a place to live here in town. If you'd like a condo, a house, a cabin, whatever you want. I will see to it that you are both comfortable. We'll arrange things with my legal team to have a fund set up for the two of you, an allowance if you will that will keep you comfortable even after my death."

Having just taken a bite of chicken, Emma hoped that her mouth was not hanging open and gifting the man with a few of the half eaten bite. Swallowing, she tried to find the words that would end this. "We…I…We aren't moving here to Storybrooke. Our home. Our lives are not here."

"Home is merely a place," he scoffed, clearly annoyed that she would be at all negative toward this. "Think of your son. He'd be well cared for and given every advantage. You can't provide him with those things, Ms. Swan. You do an adequate job now. You meet his needs, but just his basic ones. I can take that pressure away. I can…"

"I think you need to stop," Emma said, lifting the napkin from her lap and throwing it on the table where it promptly slid to the floor. "I'm not bringing my son here to live. I won't do that."

"If this is about your life," he said, ignoring her protests with his regained composure. "We could look at other options. He could live here and visit you on breaks. It would provide you both with…"

"No!" Emma shouted. It was all she could do not to stick her fingers in her ears and pretend that she had not heard him. She did not want to hear him. Spinning wildly on her heels, she ran for the door and fumbled with it until she was outside in the street.

***AAA***

Killian waved as the students boarded the bus that would take them to the other side of town to the school building and a waiting Mary Margaret. He had to admit that the young pre-teens were not as evil as he had first thought. They were eager, somewhat hyper, and curious about things. While he would have to admit he had a special bond with Henry, each of the children were growing on him. There was Grace with her love of all the sea animals. She could identify them at any distance and shocked him with her quiet accuracy. Felix was one of the older students. While he was a bit of challenge in the behavior department, he had a love of sailing that was unparalleled. He could hoist the sails in record time and had already mastered some of the finer points of navigation. Ava was bossier and louder than her brother Nicholas, a trait that earned her more than a few eye rolls from the classmates. But she was a quick study. If he demonstrated anything, she would pick up on it immediately and run with the new skill. Nicholas, while quieter than his sister, was proving to be quite the daredevil. He climbed over every obstacle, fearing nothing and providing the other children endless entertainment and Killian a few grey hairs.

"I thought I'd find you here," Robin said, his son carefully situated on one arm. "Regina wanted me to bring you this." He held up a sealed envelope, waving it a bit frantically.

"Aye," he said warily, reaching out to snag it from the man. "I was expecting that."

"May I ask?"

Killian ran his index finger under the gum seal and ripped it open easily. "Just a love letter, mate."

"From my wife? That's a bit dangerous and kinky even for you." Robin frowned as he watched his friend read the document and fold it back into place without a clue or explanation. "Killian?"

"All in due time," Killian answered, tucking the envelope into his back pocket and turning his attention to the young Roland. "I haven't seen this lad in a while. Tell me what you've been up to? Have you been giving my mate a hard time?"

The dark haired little boy laughed, resting his cheek against his father's shoulder as his brown eyes excitedly watched Killian. "No," he said with a drawn out fervor. "I'm good."

"I don't know," Killian said with his own wicked smile. "I hear rumors about you."

"Wild exaggerations," Robin muttered, bouncing his son to draw out a giggle. "I wanted to see if you might like to have dinner. Regina's on a cooking bender so we're up to our eyeballs in lasagna and turnovers. How she thinks those things go together, I'll never know."

Laughing and making a quick face at the young boy, Killian shook his head. "I think I'll pass this time. I have some work to do to get ready for tomorrow. And I…"

"You're hoping to see Emma?" Robin supplied, not masking his grin. "Oh, stop with the look of innocence. You're not fooling anyone. Everyone in town has seen how you are acting around her. It's embarrassing. I'm surprised you haven't taken to serenading her or sneaking her presents like a secret admirer. But I'm going to tell you that if you write her poetry, our friendship is over. I can't abide by any friend of mine being that love struck."

***AAA***

Emma was not even sure where to go after she had left the shop. While she was itching to get far away from the situation and even the town, her car wouldn't be back for another few hours and she was not about to do another marathon. After a pass through a dress shop, the pharmacy, and a butcher shop, she was feeling as though she had seen everything that the town had to offer.

In her walking she passed by a small park with a tall structure that she could see small children playing on at various levels. From the shouted conversation snippets, she knew they were pretending it was a castle and each had taken on some royal or medieval role in the process. Slowing her steps, she stared at them, moms and dads distractedly watching their offspring while on the phone, reading books or chatting with each other.

When Henry was born, she had thought that was what parenting was all about. She would take him to the park or walk him around the block in a stroller that she had purchased at a thrift shop. When she was alone she had been invisible, but walking with her son had given her the title of mother. There were people who judged her for being a young mom or a single mom, but she knew she was one of them. She was a parent and that had given her an identity for the first time beyond foster child.

She'd had doubts. She'd met with a social worker about placing him for adoption. Even while in labor she had considered the option and knew that she would struggle with the decision either way. In the end she had kept him, not out or responsibility or pride, but because she loved him. She had worked hard over the years to turn herself around from petty thief and teen mom into a mother who Henry could rely on for everything. No, he didn't have designer shoes. He went to public schools. She skipped meals for gas money to get him where he needed to go or fees for field trips and extracurricular activities. But she was doing it.

Now there was an option for more for her son, a life that she knew she could work 24/7 as a bail bondsperson and never provide him. She had just thrown that away for him. For what? Pride?

"Someone might think that you dislike children if you look at them like that for too long, love," the familiar voice called out from across the street. "It might even scare them."

She turned to see Killian jog across the street in between the cars parallel parked on either side. The grin on his face was contagious and she found herself offering him a similar one. "It wasn't directed at the children," she told him, holding a hand over her eyes against the glare of the sun. "Shouldn't you be out warping young minds yourself? Or grading papers?"

"On my way to buy some supplies for tomorrow," he said, the grin faltering as he got closer and saw her fragile expression. She was trying to hide it, but it was still pretty obvious with the tight muscles around her mouth and the dullness that had taken up residence in her eyes. "I'd ask what you're doing on this side of town, but I think I'd rather ask if you're okay."

"I'm…" She was about to say that she was fine, but she knew from the way he looked at her that it would be a waste of time and energy.

"I can tell you're not," he interrupted. "So we can skip the part where you give me some excuse and get down to what on earth is making you sad."

She rolled her eyes with the intention of having her body follow suit and head away from him. It was not like he was holding her in place or anything. But instead her mouth began to move and the words started to come out, slowly at first and then with more precision and rhythm. She told him about Mr. Gold's offer and the fact that she was not sure if it was her pride or her fear that was keeping her from taking the man up on what sounded to be a generous offer.

"In my experience," Killian said when she had paused, "few offers from anyone are completely altruistic or without a catch. And least of all from that man."

Her lips flattened into a straight line and her eyes blinked back at him, seeing a different look from him. She'd seen the flirty ones, the ones where he joked, the ones of sincere admiration, the ones where he seemed surprised at her reaction to him, and even the love he had for his friends. But she'd never see him look at her with such concern and care. "My gut says he is looking at Henry as a chance to keep his business in the family. Without Neal, Henry's his only option."

"I'd say that your gut is probably right, Emma. I'd trust that. He's selfish to the core."

She tried to give him a smile of thanks for that, but her lips quivered and tears threatened again. "But is it selfish on my part to not allow Henry to have the life that he could have simply because it hurts my pride that I cannot be the one to provide it for him? I didn't even want to be here for these two weeks, but I let the Golds convince me and pay me to do it. They've bought me things, paid the rent on my office and my apartment since I'm not able to get much work done. They even paid my partner's salary so she wouldn't fee overworked. What kind of mother does that?"

"A good one, I'd say." She felt his hand touch her forearm gingerly, almost like a test to see if she would pull away. Instead he led her to the one free bench in the park, but he didn't remove his hand. "You wanted your son to have more of a connection to his father. As much of a bastard as Gold is, he is the last living connection to Neal's family. Good or bad, Henry does need to know about it."

She sighed, not moving her arm from his hand's light touch. She could feel the pads of his fingers trail downward and if she had looked she would not have been surprised to find tracks from his touch as the sensation seemed to burn and sear along her skin. "There is a difference between two weeks and him living here permanently."

"Aye there is." His hand was at her wrist, circling it as his thumb traced circles on the palm of her hand. "I would not be upset if you and Henry were to move here. I might even celebrate a little, but I wouldn't want you to do so if it meant you sacrificed your own happiness and the happiness of your boy for that man's greed and desire to mold someone after himself. And while I hadn't seen or heard from Neal in years, I don't think he'd want that for Henry either."

"He wouldn't," she said shakily. "He wanted to stay far away from his father."

"With good reason," Killian agreed with a nod. "Henry does deserve a good life, but I think we both know that you can provide that for him. If Gold wants to help you with that, then it should be on those terms and not an attempt to turn your boy into a miniature version of himself. He wanted that with Neal. Obviously he hasn't learned his lesson."

Sniffing back the last of her threatened tears, she laughed. "I didn't intend to unload on you like that," she said, noticing that his hand was now completely holding hers. Even her fingers had betrayed her, lacing with his tightly. For anyone walking by they appeared every bit a couple, holding hands and looking meaningfully upon each other.

"I didn't mind," he said simply. "I feel quite honored that you would trust me enough after only knowing me a few days."

She considered that briefly. "It feels like I've known you longer," she admitted. "You have that aura about you. Like you've been around for a long time."

***AAA***

Henry noticed that the yellow car was back before Emma had even answered the door to accept the key and pay Leroy. Like a child at Christmas, Henry braced his hands on the window sill of his mother's room at Granny's and bounced excitedly as it drove down the street.

"Can I go see it?" he asked impatiently.

"Henry," she said a bit in disbelief. "It's just a car. You've ridden in it since you were born."

"You haven't missed it?" he asked, shooting her a look over his shoulder. "Not even a little?"

She shook her head and glanced at the clock near her bed. "I miss food. I haven't eaten since lunch. What do you say we grab some burgers to go and head to the beach? I could use a nice relaxing dinner with my son." She didn't add that she was feeling very grateful not to share him for the evening. It seemed odd that after all the years of the two of them eating together at the tiny table in their apartment that she was actually missing conversation with her son. She wanted to know what he had been doing. She wanted to hear about his day. She missed him.

"Dinner with you on the beach?" he asked, his excitement not waning. "Sure!"

The diner was exceptionally busy that night, every booth and table taken by hungry and some loud patrons. Emma glanced around to see if she recognized anyone as more than just familiar, but the crowd was primarily unknown to her.

"He's down at the docks working on his boat," Ruby said after clarifying if Henry wanted cheese on his burger. "Billy or one of the guys usually carries his food down to him, but we haven't had a breather yet." She glanced at the clock. "Not likely to slow down any time soon."

"We're going down to the docks," Henry said to Ruby. "We could take his dinner to him." He shot a glance at his mother as if to ask her to applaud the niceness of his gesture. When he did not get that acknowledgement, he turned back to Ruby, who was digging under the counter for napkins and condiment packets for them.

"If you guys would, that would be great," she said, smiling to Emma. "I might even throw in some free milk shakes." Emma did not remind her that their meals were paid for by the Golds or that she was not interested in being bribed.

However, before Emma could come up with an excuse or even a reason why this would not be a good idea, Henry was lugging bags of food and she was carrying drink in a holder out to her car. There was something about her son's enthusiasm over helping someone that made her smile even bigger. He had a good heart and wanted to help or even the score at almost everything.

He bounded out of the car, his hair flying and flopping as he ran the length of the dock to the very last slip and called out to Killian with his arms and hands lifting the bags as evidence.

"I thought I'd be having a night of leftovers," he told them, wiping his hand on a rag that hung out of his front pocket. Offering that hand to Emma to help her on board, he held it a second longer than necessary.

"We weren't inviting ourselves to dinner," Emma said loudly, hoping that Henry would hear her and realize that she still meant for them to leave. Her son was ignoring that cue and was divvying up hamburgers and containers of fries after pulling out a blanket.

"You are more than welcome," Killian said. "I would hardly send you away after you brought me food."

She was not sure if she was glad he saw their inclusion in his meal as more of an obligation than a desire, but she was distracted as Killian and Henry were both discussing condiments for hamburgers. She watched them for a moment, appreciative of the attentive way that Killian was answering her son's questions about the boat and how long Killian had owned it. She lowered herself between the two of them and joined in on the discussion and the food.

"Did you ever think about getting a hook where your hand used to be?" Henry asked, a picture of sincerity. He ignored his mother saying his name in an admonishing way and stared at the man hopefully. "It would be cool. You could be like a pirate."

Killian managed not to laugh at the question that he realized was actually a serious one. While it was a bit awkward, he did like the way Henry had broached the subject, a clear sign the boy was more comfortable with his disability than some.

"Aye," Killian said, his back against some piece of equipment and his legs out in front of him. "I considered it, but I have this bad habit of scratching my nose or my ear, running a hand down my face, or face palming when I do something stupid. I would hurt myself if I did those things with a hook. But maybe I'll get a parrot or an eye patch."

The answer satisfied Henry who proceeded to ask about fishing – something he had never done before – and Killian began to show him some of the equipment that he had stored away as Emma tidied up the remains of dinner.

"You don't have to do that," Killian called out to her as she stuffed a wrapper into an empty bag. "I'll take care of it."

"I don't mind," she said, concentrating on her task with one eye and ear trained on Henry and Killian. While her son had told her precious little about his classmates and the teachers, he had talked about the man they stood there with now. Emma knew that Henry was a bit in awe and fascinated by Killian, which made her both nervous and happy.

Finishing gathering the last of the trash, Emma was about to join the two when she heard her phone and instinctively reached for the white smart phone.

"Want to tell me why there is some chick calling me about doing due diligence on your shares of the business?" Elsa asked without bothering with a hello. "I realize you're busy hiding from the world right now, but you could have warned me. You could have given me a head's up that you were planning to sell. Maybe Anna and I could have bought you out."

"Wait," Emma said, holding the phone up to one ear and placing her hand over the other as if it would help her hear and comprehend better. "What are you talking about? I'm not selling."

"Well a blonde woman with a thin nose and a perpetual sneer seems to think differently," Elsa said as though Emma might have some insight with that knowledge. "She's still here." That's when Emma realized her business partner's voice was a near hiss and her words clipped as though someone might be listening.

"I can assure you…"

Elsa sighed loudly in interruption. "Hold on a second. I've got her card right here." She read off the name and then paused. "She's from freaking Storybrooke. Isn't that where you are now? And she works for Gold Financial and Property Holdings."

"Emma felt the phone practically slip from her hand. "Mr. Gold sent her." She briefly filled Elsa in on what had transpired and apologized. He's at some concert, but first thing in the morning I'm going over there. He and I are going to…"

"Ohhhhh," Elsa said, sounding infinitely calmer now that it was a mix up or even a devious plot rather than her friend trying to ditch the business. "So you're not there now? Where are you? I hear people."

"I'm having dinner with Henry," Emma said, moving her hand from her ear to cup around her mouth and stepping away from the two guys laughing over some fishing story.

"So he's talking to himself and answering himself with an accent and deeper…oh my God," Elsa's voice trilled in Emma's ear. "The guy. The one with the boat. You're with him, aren't you? Are you cheating on Walsh?"

"No, I'm not," Emma said, hoping she did not sound too defensive. "Nothing has happened."

"Yet," Elsa said. "Go ahead and add that word. Come on. Give me details. How hot is he? Better yet, snap his photo and send it to me. I want to see him."

"I've got to go," Emma hissed back at her friend. "Keep an eye on that woman for me. I'm going to go chat with Mr. Gold in the morning."

"Oh come on, Emma, give me something. I let you live vicariously through my dates with Will. Let me live through your fling with the hot guy with a boat."

"It's not a date."

"Of course it isn't," Elsa drawled teasingly. "But wait…You brought your son on your date? Your son is a witness to your fling. That's weird."

"Elsa…"

"You don't even know how to cheat properly."

**_Thoughts and Review?_**


	8. Chapter 8

Killian had no issue driving Henry to his program that Thursday morning, even though Emma's car was back in working order. "It's convention now," he had said, telling Henry that maybe he could count on him to help set up the day's activities. Emma was only slightly surprised when he arrived early with a carafe of coffee, a thermos of hot chocolate, and containers of eggs, bacon, and fruit.

"I kind of liked the doughnuts yesterday," she said, wondering where he had picked up the eggs since they were very different from the ones served at Granny's. "But these are so good." She lifted a forkful of the eggs high in demonstration. "Cheese?"

"Aye," he admitted, his head ducking a bit in a move she had come to characterize with his modesty – something she rarely saw. "A bit of cheddar and pepper jack."

Henry had already wolfed down his breakfast and was brushing his teeth and changing his shirt per his mother's instructions. Emma was trying hard to not think of Elsa's instructions to take Killian out for a test drive before settling down with Walsh. It was a little hard not to have those thoughts when they were sitting at a paltry sized table with two chairs a mere two feet from her bed.

"You made these?" Emma asked, a bit shocked both at his ability and at the fact he'd risen extra early to make her breakfast.

"Aye," he repeated. "I noticed the other day that you weren't exactly a big fan of Granny's breakfast fare. There aren't many places open this early so I thought this might be more to your liking."

She raised her eyebrow in her best impression of him and he laughed at the effort. "I don't think Granny would like you poaching customers from her, Killian. She's an older woman, but I sense a bit of fire in her."

"She's a spitfire," he laughed, leaning back in the chair with the confidence she expected of him. "But she understands that sometimes I do attempt to woo beautiful women with my cooking. However, this is the first time I have done it under her roof."

"So it's more of a morning after treat?" Emma asked, blushing when she did because that was not an image she needed to conjure up. Her libido and her loyalty to Walsh would certainly be at odds if she continued imagining a shirtless Killian scrambling eggs and frying bacon as she slept nearby.

He laughed, neither confirming nor denying her assessment. "I've been more successful with breakfast in bed," he told her. The way his eyebrows waggled and the smile on his face were not helping her cause.

"Quite a talent," she said, taking another bite. "Have you ever considered opening a restaurant?" Again, her mind screamed at the image of waking up, tangled in a sheet with his smiling face peering down at her and a delicious breakfast. Maybe there would be a rose on the tray, she thought, suddenly channeling every romantic comedy that Anna had dragged her to see.

She was not sure what had gotten into that morning. Maybe it was…she had no idea. All she knew was that she woke up a full half hour earlier than he arrived just to pull together a look that she hoped said she was fresh out of bed but not the lazy slob that she tended to be when sleeping in late.

"I don't have enough recipes in my repertoire for that," he laughed. "Besides, I studied marine biology in college and not culinary arts."

"You went to college?" she asked, not sure why the idea surprised her so much. He spoke so intelligently and knew of art, music, and other learned things that she had not experienced. While he was living in the same town he had since childhood, he had traveled and seen things she had only seen on television or on the Internet.

His look seemed to tell her that he had not considered this to be something that would shock her. "I got my undergrad in New York and did my grad work in Boston."

She should have known, she thought. She'd seen the jeans – as good as they fit – the t-shirts, the flannel, and the tousled hair and assumed him to be a regular Joe. He was blue collar, she had thought, a guy who worked shifts at the cannery or some factory and then drank beer afterward with his buddies. But no, he was a researcher with the University of Maine, studying the environmental impacts along the coast. He made extra money by captaining his ship as a rental for research teams looking to study whales or dolphins. She was proud of him, happy for him, and had never felt more inadequate in her life.

She did not bother to tell him that she had two years under her belt at a community college. She had never lived in a dorm or gone to a kegger. She would not have gone at all, but she'd qualified for some program that was designed to get her back on her feet and even paid for childcare while she attended classes.

Walsh did not even pop into her mind when he had winked at her and led her son off for another day.

***AAA***

Belle Gold teetered a bit on her heels as she followed an orderly down the hall to her husband's hospital room, his steps fast and uncaring for her tired state. He had been insistent that the pains he had been feeling were merely indigestion from the Indian food she had wanted before the concert. She had known better when the pallor of his skin and the beads of perspiration became too apparent to ignore.

"Are you comfortable?" she asked him when she entered the room with the florescent light overhead. "I could see about…"

He swore he was fine, asked her only to see about getting him out of there.

"It was a minor heart attack," she reminded him with a surprised tone. "You need to recover."

"The key word, dearie, is minor," he said just as exasperated as he had been over the pain to begin with. His color was a bit better, but the oxygen tube, monitors, IV, and other tools tell a different story. "I want to see Henry."

Belle frowned, her lips pouting outward in a display of defiance she rarely showed. She knew what people thought of her, the young wife biding her time until he died. She was barely older than his son had been, a child by comparison when they got married. She was the daughter of a florist, marrying a mogul. That was clearly the center of the gossip.

"I'll pick him up after his program is out for the day," she said, wondering if he was going to argue. If he didn't, that would be so different for him that it might have scared her. "I can see that the shop is opened and I'll…"

"Do whatever you need to do, dear," he said, sinking into the thin and stark white pillows. "I am going to rest until they let me out of this infernal place."

***AAA***

Emma was an expert at stakeouts. She could stay for hours in her car and wait on a perp to make a mistake or show himself. So she was not all that disappointed when she found the pawn shop closed up tight. He'd be there soon, she told herself warily and dug into her tote bag for some form of snack food. She was not hungry, as Killian's morning treat had been filling. However, it was habit. A stake out meant potato chips, candy, and almost flat soda.

She stared listlessly at the door of the pawn shop, waiting for a sign of life to appear and open the doors. Mr. Gold was nothing if not punctual and she knew he would be there at any moment to open its doors. She'd never seen more than a customer or two enter the premises, but far be it from her to question to the financial theories of man who was worth more than all of her friends put together.

The sky was cloudless, which was a good sign for her son who was so eager to sail that morning. It was also boding well for Friday night's event before the camping trip. The students were holding a dinner for their parents and other loved ones. They were fishing with Killian tomorrow morning and preparing something of a surprise for their guests. Emma had to smile that her son, as grown as he pretended to be, was so eager and excited about pleasing her.

She looked down at her phone and smiled. Elsa was an early riser too and already texting her.

**Elsa: So do I have to ask if you woke up alone?**

**Emma: I did. Your fantasies and delusions have been disproved.**

**Elsa: So disappointed in you. **

**Emma: For not cheating?**

**Elsa: You're staying faithful to the most boring guy on earth. What is that about?**

**Emma: Walsh is a good guy.**

**Elsa: I'm not debating the merits of Walsh. I'm telling you to live a little. So when do you see this guy again?**

**Emma: I did this morning.**

**Elsa: You woke up alone. Right?**

**Emma: He brought me breakfast and took Henry to his session.**

**Elsa: Only you have a fling that skips over hot and steamy sex and goes straight to domestic boredom. I'm disappointed.**

**Emma: So you said.**

**Elsa: I'm going to send you some books or websites or something to read. You need help.**

**Emma: You are accusing me of being boring and are suggesting I read?**

The exchange might have gone on longer, but Emma's attention was diverted by Belle arriving at the shop with keys in hand. Dropping her phone on the passenger seat, Emma climbed out of the car and hurried over to the young wife.

"Can I talk to you?" Emma called out when Belle did not turn around to acknowledge her. "It's about your husband and my son."

Belle was still dressed impeccably. Her skirt was a perfect shade of rust and her top had that same shade mixed with blue running through it with a coordinating bow that tied around a tall collar. Her hair was laying in long waves around her shoulders and simple silver jewelry shown in the morning light. "Emma," she said, a breathless and tired quality in her voice. "I was going to call you. I'm just a bit out of sorts this morning." She balanced a stack of three books in her arms and shoved a key into the lock of the shop's door. "My husband had a little incident last night. He's being monitored at the hospital right now."

Emma looked sympathetically at the woman, realizing that despite her anger this man was both Henry's grandfather and Belle's husband. "Is there anything I can do?" Emma asked.

Belle smiled back, her lower lip wavering a bit. "I know it's not easy, but could you possibly bring Henry by the hospital for a visit. It would mean a lot."

Sighing, Emma held her hands out to take the books from the woman. "I don't know. He's a little sensitive about hospitals and all that since his father…And I haven't really told Henry how sick his grandfather is either."

The dark haired woman's face fell, but she recovered quickly. "I understand," she said. "It's just that…"

"I'll talk to him and we'll see," she promised. "Can I…" She hesitated. "Mr. Gold approached me about Henry moving here to go to school. I told him no, but he still sent some woman to do research on the company I own to buy me out? Is this his normal behavior?"

Belle's back was to Emma as she flipped on lights and ran a discerning hand over a piece of furniture to determine if it was too dusty. Holding her finger up to the light, she chewed on her bottom lip. "My husband is worried about his future and that of your son. Henry's a great boy. He's got a great future. My husband would like to help you secure that."

"I'm sure that he has good intentions, but you must realize that my son and I have our own life. We aren't looking to be uprooted for some man's whim."

"You should wait and talk to my husband about this," Belle told her, waving off the imminent protest.

***AAA***

Emma's hands dexterously were typing out a message to Elsa when she felt the tap on her shoulder. Looking up into the shadowed face, she smiled. "I thought you'd be too busy for lunch," she said with a laugh, dropping her phone down onto the table. "But I appreciate you making time."

"Your line of work sounds much more intriguing than parking tickets and noise ordinances," David said with a wry grin as he took the seat across from her. "And I highly doubt that Killian would forgive me if I stood you up."

She made a little face. "This isn't about Killian," she reminded him, taking a sip from her red colored straw. "It's about the Golds."

Using his fist, he gave his chest a pound almost dead center. "Right to the heart of the matter then. What did you want to know about them?"

She frowned, unable to shake the feeling that she was having this conversation with too many people. She was a private person and already Elsa, Killian, Belle, and now David knew what the man had proposed. She kept it strictly to the facts and ignored the look of sympathy that David had shot her. She spent most of the time explaining about Kathryn.

"You were thinking she might be my ex-girlfriend?" David asked, his face indicating that he had the same thought. "Honestly I haven't kept up with her, but it is possible. She worked for Gold back then. Something administrative, but I don't know. She was thinking about law school."

Emma scrolled through the pictures on her phone and stopped when she reached the one that Elsa had sent. It was a bit off kilter, but it showed the woman sitting at a table. "Elsa wouldn't let her in this morning, but she saw her across the way at this coffee place and snapped this photo."

His lips pursed and shifted to one side as he studied the photo, holding the phone at different angles to help. "It's her," he said. "So what's your plan?"

"Mr. Gold is in the hospital and Belle's being less than helpful," she explained, taking the phone back and darkening the screen. "I need to get Kathryn out of Elsa's hair so that it buys me more time."

He continued to stare at the dark screen as though he was studying it. "Are you considering his offer?"

"No, I just need to figure out how to keep my son from finding out that he's a financial investment and not a grandchild to this man."

***AAA***

"I have an idea," Walsh said to her. His voice echoed in the empty space of a loft that he was staging for a real estate client. "I can't get away this weekend to go as far as Maine, but I was thinking we might go to the Hamptons. I can send a car for you and Henry."

Emma pushed herself up from one of the row chairs in the hospital waiting room and just about threw the phone in frustration. "I told you I can't. Henry needs to be here. I need to be here for him."

"He's old enough…"

"He's old enough to feel abandoned if I skip town to hang out with my boyfriend in the Hamptons. I don't even like the Hamptons." She sighed heavily, leaning her back on one of the vending machines. "Walsh, I invited you here so you could meet some of these people. They are nice people. It was just going to be a day out on the water with some friends."

"You barely know them," he challenged. "You've known them what? Three or four days? Now they are friends."

He was usually even toned and hard to rile. Even at her worst, she only garnered an eye roll or a clicking of his tongue on the roof of his mouth. He never called her names or argued with her. Instead, he got quiet, asked repeated questions to rile her frustration, or withheld a compliment or comment. Elsa had once told her it was hard to argue with a man who was that dead behind the eyes. Emma hadn't realized how true that was until now.

"Walsh, I'm at the hospital with Henry while he goes to visit his dying grandfather," she said with as little emotion as she could reveal. "This isn't the time to discuss where we should go this weekend or not. It's not even the time…"

"God, I'm sorry, Emma," he said, cutting her off. "I suppose I am sounding like an idiot. I'll come up this weekend. We need to see each other, don't we? You're probably feeling so lonely there in Maine. I'm just being selfish."

Emma sighed, watching a woman push a baby in a stroller as her husband (assumed) was saying something to her. The couple laughed and looked so perfectly at ease with each other. He had his hand on her back without her flinching. She looked at him as though she had no doubts as to their love or his feelings toward her. That was supposed to be an end game, Emma thought, not arguing over weekend plans and failing to feel butterflies over a guy. She and Elsa had had that conversation many times. At some point you were supposed to look at the guy you were dating and see a future beyond plans for Saturday night.

"Emma?"

"No," she said, her voice barely sounding like her own. "I think maybe I should just stay here and you stay there. I don't think you should come up."

"But Emma…"

"No," she said again. "I think it's better this way."

***AAA***

"You do realize that most people would call a babysitter before just abandoning their child with one, right?" Killian asked, eyeing the child in Robin's arms. "What if I had plans? I could have had a date."

"Emma's at the hospital," Robin said quickly, pointing to his wife who was wearing a rather form fitting black dress and some of the highest heels that she could balance on. "Regina saw her earlier. David and Mary Margaret are doing yard work for that dinner thing with the kids. Philip and Aurora are grocery shopping. Ashley has a cold and is in bed. You didn't have plans."

"So are you saying I'm not your first choice?" Killian asked, watching the four year old run past his father and onto the boat. "What about Ruby?"

"Working," the other man said easily. "I figured you'd be here sulking that you hadn't figured out some way to trick Emma into spending time with you. She's been in town since Sunday and you've managed to see her each night? Good track record, but…"

"You need a life, mate," Killian said with a shake of his head. "What time are you and your lovely wife going to pick him up?"

"I don't know," Robin said with a shrug, backing away. "Nine or Ten? You know the drill."

"Remember," Regina said with a smirk on her face. "No long distance phone calls. Keep the television on something G rated. And no dancing girls."

"It's my boat, Regina," Killian said with a mock growl of anger. "I can bloody well invite strippers if I want."

***AAA***

"He's tired," Henry said as he and his mother made their way to her car. She had not asked him anything other than if he was done, but he felt like he should say something. "It's…Is he going to get better?"

Emma looked at her son with a side long glance before cranking the car back to life. She did not lie to him, even when the situation was rough. When Neal had died, she had not sugar coated it or told him that he had died in some noble way. She'd been honest about the drunk driver and the fact that Neal had not been wearing a seatbelt. It was better to soothe the wounds of the truth than hide them.

"He might this time," Emma said softly, "but he's not going to ever fully recover. His heart is bad and it will eventually stop working."

Henry nodded, not in surprise but acceptance. "He said he wants me to live here. He wants me to inherit things." His face twisted at the word inherit with confusion. "I told him I didn't understand, but he was too tired to explain."

Emma felt a combination of sadness for her son, learning that he was about to lose yet another family member, and anger for a man who was trying to insert himself into her son's life. If he wanted to be in Henry's life then he should have taken him to ball games or had Sunday dinners. He should have gone to class plays and science fairs. He should not have put pressure on a young boy to get to know and love him in just a few days. It was unfair and wrong to do that. She wanted to scream and cry at the pained expression on her son's face.

"Your grandfather has a lot of money and is a very successful business man." She carefully chose the words, not wanting to use the wrong ones and put the wrong image in her son's head. "When your dad died, your grandfather realized that there is nobody for him to leave his businesses to after he dies someday. He wants them to go to you. I didn't realize it at first when he and Belle invited us, but that's been part of why we are here. He wanted to see if I would be okay with us living here and you learning about his family and history and businesses and all that."

"You don't want to move here, do you?" Henry asked, ignoring the information about money and business. "You want to stay at home, right?"

The car was not yet in drive, but Emma gripped the steering wheel tightly, tears in her eyes. "Henry, home for me is wherever you are at," she said as calmly as she could. "If you wanted to live here, then I would find a way to make that work. I'm not against it. I hadn't brought it up to you yet because I thought you weren't ready. You barely know your grandfather. You…"

"You'd have to leave your friends and Walsh," Henry said, showing more empathy than most 12 year old boys who were completely ego-centric. "I'd have to leave my friends."

"Yes," Emma said, again not sugarcoating the idea for him. She could promise that they could visit. She could promise weekends and holidays in the city, but the truth was that she was sure those things would get postponed. "But we could make new friends. It isn't about the city. It's about your grandfather."

Henry nodded slowly. "Do we have to decide soon?"

"Not tonight."

"Good," he said with a sly smile. "I'm hungry. But I need to go get my backpack. I left it on Killian's boat."

She almost asked him to wait until morning, but the look on his face and the way he folded his arms like she did when she was set on a plan told her that was a waste of time. Making a u-turn in the parking lot, she headed for the other exit that would take them down to the docks. On the way she told him that Killian might not even be there, might be busy, or might be… Henry asked her who she was trying to convince. She almost grounded him for that question.

She pulled the car up in the second parking spot by the docks and gestured for Henry to go ahead. He didn't move at first, instead, he grabbed the key ring and turned off the car with a gentle twist of his hands. With the keys in hand, he jumped out of the car and ran for the last boat.

"Henry!" she called out, her son's mop of dark hair bouncing as he made the familiar turn and jumped with a thud onto the deck. "Come back here."

Killian appeared a moment later and after a few unheard words to Henry, waved to her with that smile on his face. "I wasn't expecting to see you," he said, offering her his hand as she followed her son. "But it's always a pleasure."

"We're just here to get Henry's backpack," she said a bit coolly. She felt guilty for that and shrugged. "I guess it is becoming a bit of a habit though. Us seeing each other."

"Aye," he said, still holding onto her hand. "While the lad searches for his pack, will you join me below deck. I'm afraid I have a guest aboard who needs my attention." His eyebrows shot up on the word guest and Emma wondered briefly if he meant some woman. However, his clothes were still intact and his hair only showed the evidence of his own hand running through it. She wordlessly followed him with his hand wrapped around hers into what he referred to as his galley where she met his guest for the second time that week. "Emma Swan," Killian said with a deep bow. "May I present Roland Hood?"

The little boy was seated in the dead center of an l-shaped bench with a table pulled down from the wall in front of him. His feet were tucked up under him so that he could sit higher and his elbows were on the table with his chin resting in his hands. His smile was a bit crooked and his hair curled at the ends down over his chocolate eyes. "I believe we have met," she said with a smile to the little boy. Turning back to Killian. "Babysitting?"

"Aye," he said with a laugh as he backed his way toward the kitchen. "It appears that I live the life of a family man even though I assure you that I am a bachelor."

"I'm hungry," Roland announced after confirming that Emma was in fact Henry's mother. "You promised dinner."

"Right you are, lad," Killian said, his hand busily checking on a few items. "Can I convince you to stay for dinner, love? Roland and I have decided to dine on dinosaur chicken nuggets, tots, and some apple sauce. While not a balanced meal, it is the request of my dinner guest."

"And something you could add to the menu of that restaurant that would put Granny out of business," Emma said.

"I can make more than just breakfast," he said popping a tot in his mouth with a discerning look upon his face. "And I made more than enough. You and Henry could join us. I think we might even watch a movie – animated, of course."

"Henry's here?" Roland asked, as if the idea that the older boy's mother being there did not allude to the other's appearance. He unfolded himself and appeared ready to pounce until Emma called up to her son to come down, as they were staying for dinner.

**_A/N: I know it is mean of me to cut it off there. But the part about their dinner became a bit too long for this chapter. I promise it is worth the wait. Be sure to review and let me know what you think._**


	9. Chapter 9

_**It's a long chapter. Sorry, but not sorry. I hope you enjoy a little progress.**_

The kitchen of the boat was on the small side, but Killian moved through it with practiced efficiency and care. Each nook contained some sort of food or serving/baking ware. Emma watched for a moment with a certain awe that he was that organized and unfazed even when doubling the number of people having dinner.

Emma stood for a moment, unsure what to do as her son, sans backpack, came bounding down the half ladder half stair like structure and took a seat directly next to the little boy. Their discussion picking right up about something she wasn't even sure she understood. She looked back at Killian who was pulling chicken nuggets out of an impossibly small oven with his one hand and kicking a cabinet where he'd been searching shut with his foot.

"What can I do?" she asked, stepping into the space. He smiled patiently at her and said there were glasses in a cabinet over the sink if she would like to get their drinks.

She pulled down four, lined them up on the wooden counter, and pulled open the small refrigerator to search out something to drink. The pickings were slim, as he had a half of a container of orange juice, one bottle of beer, one bottle of wine on the refrigerator's door and two half gallons of milk – one white and one chocolate. She felt the edges of her mouth turn up at the sight.

"White or brown?" she asked him as if it was a natural question under the circumstances.

He was shoving more of the chicken in the oven and stopped with a brontosaurus still in his hand. "Brown wine?" he asked. "Does that go with chicken nuggets?"

"Milk," she said, holding up the cartons. "I was going to tease you about it and ask did you put it in your cereal, but then I remembered that you've had pre-teens on your boat all week. So I'll let you off the hook."

He chuckled as she poured and then settled the drinks on the table. "I'm sure that would be a question to stump even Martha Stewart," he had teased back, sliding a plate in front of Roland and then Henry.

Emma couldn't help but notice the way that Roland mimicked every move that her son made. If Henry ate a bite of chicken, so did Roland. When Henry wiped his mouth, so did Roland. She looked over to see if Killian was noticing it too. He was, leaving her struck by the amused and kind expression on his face as he watched them. Roland proudly imitating the older child and Henry looking both annoyed and honored at the attention.

The seating was pretty tight on the l-shaped bench. Henry and Roland on one end of it, two phone books now under Roland to help him sit taller. Killian sat next to his young charge for the evening with Emma at his left. She had teased him that he had arranged it that way so that she would be the one to have to get up for everything they needed.

"You know what?" Roland asked, one of the two ways he usually started a conversation. "We should have a sleep over. All four of us." He nodded his own head in agreement.

"Where exactly would all four of us fit on this boat?" Killian asked, his own legs bent in what could not be a comfortable position and Emma's left leg halfway off the bench.

The boy thought about this for a moment, popped a tot in his mouth, and leaned forward so far that Killian had to throw and arm out to catch him before he landed on the table. The boy's dark eyes viewed Emma critically and she felt herself almost blush under the scrutiny.

"Are you his wife?" he asked, familiar with the word after Robin had used it so many times to explain the relationship Regina would have to their family after their own wedding.

Emma let out a short laugh and shook her head. "No, Roland," she said. "We're just friends."

Henry and Killian offered no support for her claim, both shoveling in food as though it was the last meal that either would ever eat. She hoped that would be the end of the boy's questioning, as she was not prepared to be on display like that. It wasn't.

"Guess what?" he asked, using his other favorite way of starting a statement. "My daddy said that before he got married to 'Gina. He'd say, 'boy she's just a friend.'"

Henry laughed, barely containing the food in his mouth. Killian at least blushed, though not as much as Emma. He muttered some instruction to the child to go ahead and finish his meal. Out of questions for the moment Roland complied as Killian mouthed an apology to her.

Killian watched her pop a bite into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully and carefully as though it was some fine dining experience. She raised an eyebrow in question and he realized that his observation had not gone unnoticed.

"I realize that I'm a wonderful cook, Swan," he said. "But you are eating that like it is the most bloody marvelous culinary delight ever. Are you that hungry?"

She covered her smile with her hand as she finished chewing, her eyes dancing a bit at him. "You think this is the first time I've had chicken nuggets? I have a son, who lived on them for a good three or four years. We usually paired them with macaroni and cheese though."

"Ahhhh," he said with a chuckle. "Italian cuisine?"

The rest of the meal proceeded few incidents. There was nugget that went airborne, completely by accident according to Roland. There was the discussion that tots and fries came from the same vegetable, something that even Henry had to think hard about when Killian informed the two of them. Only one glass of milk was spilled – Killian's. And only one dollop of apple sauce landed on someone's shirt – Emma's.

It took only a few minutes for both adults to clean up after dinner, Killian entertaining the two boys with funny stories about sea monsters and mermaids that had Roland begging to look for them. He even managed to get Henry laughing and digging through a stack of DVDs that the man had managed to collect for his time with the four year old from dollar bins and library sales. He also popped some popcorn in the microwave and waved off Emma's protests that everyone was already full.

Emma could hear the ding of her cell phone and pulled it out to inspect it with a quick apology to her host for being rude. "It could be Elsa," she said, hoping that her friend was not going to say something embarrassing to her.

**Walsh: I really am sorry. I don't want to put pressure on you.**

Emma considered that first date with Walsh. As persistent as he had been, she was unsure why he had paid so much attention to her. He had a bit of a reputation when it came to women. Most of the women in his past were fashionable and had gone to all of the best schools. The latest, Zelena had been an accessories editor at some fashion magazine. While Emma had never actually met her, Anna knew of her and had given vivid descriptions one night as Emma drank a beer and Anna had nursed a smoothie laced with cayenne as a way to induce labor naturally.

It struck Emma just how different both sisters were with Elsa being the more brash and straightforward of the two. Anna was just as candid, but she saw the world in various shades rather than just black and white. No time had that been more evident than after her first date with Walsh when Emma found both women on her couch, having babysat Henry together for a chance at the first report of the date.

Anna had wanted to know about the flowers, the restaurant, and whether they had kissed good night. Elsa wanted to know if she had made sure he had a good background check and wasn't secretly supporting a wife and five kids in Great Neck. She had sent them both home with the knowledge that she doubted she would go out with him again.

**Walsh: Emma, don't be this way. Talk to me.**

**Emma: Now is not a good time. Talk to you tomorrow.**

**Walsh: I think it would be better that we settle this before we go to bed angry.**

**Emma: I'm not angry. Are you?**

No reply came.

"You can't have movie night without popcorn," Killian said in all seriousness as he pulled out two bowls for the kernels – one for the boys to share and one for him and Emma. The aroma filled the air and made even Emma's protesting mouth water.

"Mom, it's kind of a must," Henry chimed in as he eyed the first bowl of popcorn as though he had not just eaten more than a dozen nuggets without coming up for air. Roland nodded enthusiastically as Killian also produced a bottle of caffeine free soda.

"Why don't you get us some ice, Mom," Killian laughed, trying to sound very much like Henry with the added syllable to her moniker. The boys giggled at his teasing of her.

She bumped her hip against his to open the refrigerator door, laughing as he made an exaggerated stumble and muttered about someone not knowing her own strength. She in turn called him a weakling and began depositing ice into the empty glasses as he poured the fizzing liquid over them. "Good idea," she said, nodding to the label. "You don't want to send Roland home all jacked up on sugar and caffeine."

"The lad's got a natural high going," Killian said, pointing with his chin to wear Roland was currently describing the whole plot of the movie while standing where the table had been folded up and acting out some of his favorite moments. "I don't think we should attempt to add to it. Robin might kill me for that."

Taking their seats on the L-shaped bench, Killian pressed play on the remote control and found himself only a few minutes into the movie with Roland's sneaker covered feet in his lap as the boy rested his head on Henry as his heavy lidded eyes fluttered and reopened at longer intervals. The partially consumed cup of soda rested precariously in his hand until Emma leaned over at the right moment and saved it from drenching both the boy and the floor in the sticky liquid. Pulling back, she winked at Killian, not unaware that her body had been draped over his in that instant.

She could hear the phone again and reached to pull it out.

**Elsa: Any reason your boyfriend is drinking like a fish with his ex? (a picture of him standing at one of those tall tables in a bar accompanied, the strawberry blonde to his right more than a little familiar)**

**Emma: None that I know of.**

**Elsa: You can't see it, but I'm rolling my eyes. Neither one of you two know how to cheat. It's a little sad.**

**Emma: I'm sure you can offer a masters class on the subject. Busy. Talk later? Unless it is important?**

**Elsa: Are you with him? Alone?**

**Emma: Yes. No, we have Henry and a four year old with us.**

**Elsa: I'm signing you up for my class. Have fun. Preferably not g-rated.**

Emma was biting into a handful of popcorn when she read the last line, making her choke on what felt like incredibly dry sand instead of a buttery treat. Not wanting to wake up Roland or her son, who now seemed to be dozing, she stumbled to her feet and up to the deck where she gulped at the last of her soda and waited on her throat to stop. Finally it did.

"Looks like Roland's getting his sleepover after all," Emma said when Killian joined her. "I think he made it through 15 minutes of that movie and Henry made it an entire hour. What exactly are you guys doing every day in these classes and field trips that has my son so exhausted? It's usually a struggle to get him in bed." She had situated herself on a box near the tiller at the stern of the boat, Killian plopping himself next to her without the drama of having to climb up as she did.

"I think it's the fresh air and the water," Killian said, passing her the bowl of buttered popcorn that he'd made for the movie and one of the bottles of beer that he had tucked into his pocket to carry up. "It's usually quite a good sedative."

"I'll have to remember that." She reached in to grab a few kernels and studied them in the palm of her hand. He popped the cap on the bottle for her. "You're good with him. I don't know that I've told you that."

"Is that a compliment?" Killian asked, taking a sip before he passed the bottle back to her.

"I should know better than to offer you one. It's sure to go to your head, but yes, it's a compliment. You're good with kids, despite your protests that you prefer the ones who can't talk back to you. Roland clearly adores you and Henry's descriptions of his days this week always include lengthy accounts of what you did, said, or showed him. I'd say you're developing a fan club."

His chin ducked down and then shifted so that he was looking in the opposite direction of her. It was a telltale sign that he was embarrassed and one that she was proud to have both caused and recognized. "So does that mean you're applying for a position in the fan club? President, perhaps?"

"I think that role might be a bit too competitive for me to get," she answered, broaching a subject that she had not before. "How many women are you trying to woo?"

He studied the bowl, purposely not making eye contact with her. "Love, there are too many assumptions in that question for me to answer properly and with the right amount of wit. You assume that there are other women I'm wooing. And you are assuming that you are one of them."

She was glad he was not looking at her because if his eyes had shown that probing glance she had come to associate with their conversations, she was sure she'd sound like an idiot. She might not even have garnered the courage to ask him, "Are you not trying?"

He chuckled, a deep sounding titter that sounded more nervous than jovial. If his hand and fingers were not already butter covered, he might have run his hand through his hair or scratched at that spot behind his ear. "I thought you didn't wish for me to," he said softly and almost sadly. "You were pretty clear on it."

"It's not a bad thing to be wooed," she said bravely, her legs dangling. "I have appreciated your trying so far even if I haven't shown it."

He finally lifted his chin up and looked at her, a bit surprised that she did not look away. "Emma…"

"I'm sorry," she said, as though that might explain her quick turn about. "I haven't been very nice to you. You've been nothing but nice to me. Dinners, breakfasts, carting Henry around, and even being my sounding board when I was about to have a nervous breakdown. I haven't done anything for you. I've actually been kind of mean to you."

"Emma," he said, his shoulders seeming to relax. "If your behavior toward me has been mean, I'm afraid you might not be too good at your job. You've been a delight. A challenge, but a delight." He waited until she smiled, even if it was a bit tentative. "And as far as doing things for you or for Henry, I did those things because I wanted to do them. I am not denying that I like you, Emma. Of course I find you attractive, funny, sweet, and all together a wonderfully brilliant woman. If you told me right now that you were interested in something beyond friendship, I'd jump on the chance in an instant. But I'm not about to make you feel uncomfortable or like you aren't safe just because I happen to fancy you as something more."

She threw her head back with a long swig, the bitter taste coating her mouth. "I'm not good at picking up signals," she admitted to him. "A guy could be in my bed naked and I might realize that he liked me."

Killian chuckled with the imagery. "So you're saying you had not noticed my advances." Nodding, he grinned. "I am glad I wasn't too obvious. I was beginning to feel like I had been passing you notes in class for a week and you weren't reading them."

"Perhaps you were and I was just blind," she said softly. "I kept pushing you away for something that was so new and still not really even labeled with Walsh."

She had not said his name to her before, referring to him only as her boyfriend. Henry had been the one to mention his name. "That's an admirable trait, Emma," he said, pulling the bottle from her for his own sip. "Loyalty is nothing to sneeze at, love. I think it makes you all the more…"

"Stupid," she finished for him, the image of Walsh with his ex filling her mind. She had expected jealousy or anger, but she felt neither. That bothered her more than anything. She should feel something. She was too young to go through life with numbness. "He's angry at me about inviting him up here this weekend. He wanted me to go off with him instead. He ignores…" She stopped. "I don't want to be that woman. I don't want to treat you like a therapist and tell you how he forgets my birthday or can't remember my son's name."

"You can vent all you want, love," he said. "I don't mind."

"Wow, that's quite an offer, but not the one I'm going to take you up on right now. Walsh isn't a bad guy. He's pretty great actually. He's talented and creative. He's successful. He's handsome. He's…"

Killian cleared his throat before reaching in for more popcorn. "Who are you trying to sell him to, love? I take it you are already dating him and I'm not in the market for him." His eyebrows shot up.

"Sorry," she muttered. "I just…I've never dated as an adult, you know. I have a son. I was around 18 when he was born. After that I had to do the whole speech on having a kid to any guy who did ask me out. Guys have actually run away from me. There aren't many guys out there interested in dating a single mom when there are plenty of other young women without baggage. Guys want to talk about going to a Celtics game with courtside seats, not youth basketball at the community gym. They want hot sex at weird hours and walking around naked, not planning for weekend visitation plans to match. So that means I get to date guys who have kids and are divorced. Only part of the time they aren't divorced. They lie. Or they have six kids and expect our dates to include me babysitting them. So when a guy comes around who is not a felon, not too obviously into some weird fetish, self-supporting, not a pedophile, and not a complete jerk, I'm likely to date him just because I don't know if another will come along."

"You've given this a lot of thought," he said. "Emma, I'm sure others have said this to you. The right guy for you will love both you and Henry. If a guy doesn't, he's not the right guy." He shrugged as if it was that easy to determine suitable dating solutions.

"So," Emma said, swirling the last remnants of the beer in the bottle. "I've told you why my dating life sucks. It's your turn. Why would you not have a girlfriend or a wife?"

"You cut right to it," Killian laughed. "Okay, maybe I'm just picky. I date. I've been out on a few this year so far, but honestly there hasn't been anyone who interested me…"

She wanted to ask if she did, but that seemed a bit too bold and she held back. "I'd picture you more as a ladies' man," she said. "Fighting them off, what with the boat and all."

Again his laughter rang out and cut through the gentle sounds of water slapping against the boat. "It actually scares the lasses off," he said. "For the past few years this has been my home. Except the very coldest of winter, it's perfect. At that point, I go and crash on someone's couch. David and Mary Margaret or Robin and Regina. Philip and Aurora too, but less often now that they have the baby."

"I'm meeting them Saturday, right?" she asked, trying to remember what he had told her.

"Aye, but I should warn you since you did seem to bolt when Belle told you that you'd be the only single girl there, that's the case here too. We've got the couples and Ruby with her latest, Victor, and me and you."

She paused, her right shoe dangling off her toes. "So should we consider this our first date?" she asked. "You did offer to pick me up that morning."

"I thought we weren't going to date," he said back. "You say it is your boyfriend, but I think you're scared you'll fall in love with me and then we'll both be heartbroken at the end of next week. Besides, if Saturday's a date, then what do you call us going for steamers or dinner with the Nolans?"

"Or tonight?" The water had taken on a dark and glassy look under the light of a nearly full moon. Not a single ripple shone on its surface, giving the appearance of a mirrored dance floor. She tilted the bottle to him as an offer, which he shook his head at and she drank down the rest. Placing the bottle behind her, she sighed.

"So if we count tonight," he said. "That would mean that Saturday is our fourth." He pretended to calculate it as if writing in the air. "Getting a little serious?"

"I have rarely gone out on four dates with a guy," Emma said, leaning back on her elbows. "That usually means I've at least kissed the guy, if not slept with them."

"Really?" he asked, the sweetness gone from his voice and replaced by the arrogant teasing. "Does that mean…"

"Easy there, sparky," she laughed, her hair falling behind her shoulders as she sat back up. "Since we aren't really dating, I don't think we get to do anything like that."

He laughed lightly, his shoulder brushing against hers before he twisted to face her, inches away from her. She could feel his breath, her own eyes shutting as he moved closer and his hand reached up whether to caress her cheek or hold her in place, she wasn't sure. His palm was against her left cheek, fingers curling into her hair as his lips descended on hers. His lips were warm and soft, tentative yet searching as his mouth moved against hers. He wasn't moving fast, instead he seemed to hold back so that she could set the pace, celebrating when her lips parted under his. The kiss, for all its surprise, was languid and indulgent.

She'd been kissed before, sometimes without really wanting to be and others after weeks of waiting and wanting. Each of them stood out in some way either good or bad. Some might even be classified as boring when she concentrated more on her to do list or items needed from the grocery store rather than the man attached to the lips against hers. With Killian, all she could think about was him and buttery taste of the popcorn mixed with the beer. When she audibly sighed, her head tilting back, she felt his muscles tense as he deepened the kiss, tongues touching, and her hands reached up to land on his shoulder and his own face. His stubble prickly against the palm of her hand.

"Yoohoo!" came a voice, followed by the laughing from the familiar voice of Robin. The woman's voice became a little harder. "Killian!"

Killian separated his mouth from Emma's, still cradling her face with his hand as he rested his forehead against hers. "I'm sorry, love," he said, but she was not sure if he meant for kissing her or for the interruption that was not his fault. "Robin and Regina are here to collect Roland."

She nodded, unsure what to say or do as he hopped down to go and meet father and step-mother of the little boy. Her lips were still feeling the burn of his and she briefly considered if she had ever felt a kiss as much as she had that one. Still silent, she watched Robin carry his son and the three adults have a brief conversation before walking over to her.

"I thought I told you no girls while you're on babysitting duty," Regina mockingly admonished. "Can you not follow a simple instruction?"

Robin appeared a bit more amused and shifted the still sleeping boy in his arms. "I'll be seeing you tomorrow, right?" he asked Emma, the smile on his face indicating that perhaps he had seen them before his wife had called out her ridiculous greeting. When Emma didn't answer, he chuckled and exchanged a look with his wife and then toward Killian. "At the parents' dinner? You'll be there? With Henry?"

"Yes," Emma said, hoping that she didn't sound as breathless as she felt. "I'll be there."

The Hoods left, waving goodbye and teasing Killian that he had better catch something other than blue fish for dinner. It was some sort of inside joke, Emma realized, which for some reason she wanted to know more about. Feeling a bit more ready to stand, Emma slid down from the box and walked to where Killian was watching the couple carry the sleeping boy to a waiting car.

"Henry and I should go," she said, again praying that her voice did not sound like she was ready to panic. The look on his face told her that he was expecting her to run.

"I suppose it would fall on deaf ears if I asked you to stay," he said, again with a tinge of sadness that she did not fully grasp. "I am sorry, Emma."

She looked at him, shadows doing some odd things to his features as the lights from the boat and the moon mixed and danced along them. "For what?" she asked, her voice so quiet that she wondered when he didn't react if he had heard her at all.

"You probably didn't want me to kiss you," he said, physically taking a step back from her as if he might mistakenly try it again. "I just told you how I didn't want you to feel awkward around me and I…"

She had not even drank the whole beer, as they had shared it. So she could not blame her actions on being drunk or inebriated in any way. She was not overly tired or even emotional. So there was no excuse when she took two steps toward him, reached her hand out to curl her fingers at the base of his neck and pull his mouth down on hers. He let out a sound right before their lips touched that could have been a grunt or a growl, but she did not stop to ask him. She did not even ask herself what it meant or why she was doing this when she would have to figure all of that out soon enough. When they broke apart this time, their bodies pressed together, she dropped her head to his shoulder and smiled against the soft fabric of his shirt.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she said, pulling herself back and running a hand through her long blonde hair.

"Tomorrow," he repeated, as if trying to interpret the word. With a quick shake of his head, he seemed to gain his senses back. "Any requests for breakfast?"

She called down to Henry and was thankful when the boy emerged, bleary eyed but walking on his own. "Surprise me," she said, guiding her son toward the worn wood of the docks and toward her car. "You're good at surprising me."

***AAA***

Emma rolled over and breathed in the forest fresh scent of laundry detergent on the pillow next to her, a sign that Ruby had changed the sheets on the bed despite Emma insisting that it was not necessary. Ruby had a wicked sense of humor that way, even filling a little dish inside the top drawer of the nightstand with condoms of varying textures, sizes, and colors as if that wasn't going to be hard to explain to her son. Thankfully, Henry's room did not receive that gift.

She glanced over at the digital alarm clock and her phone next to the bed, the only signs of modernity in the classical rooms except for the individual coffee pots to avoid a run on Granny's supplies in the diner. It was just going on 4 a.m., and she was now running on about three hours of sleep after she had found out that Henry had in fact not left his backpack on Killian's boat, but hidden in under a few items in the backseat of the car. He had almost tearfully admitted this to her when she had found it, stating that it had been a certain teacher – Mary Margaret – who had suggested it. She told him they'd talk later.

She knew that a good person would feel guilty about the fact he or she had kissed someone not once but twice while effectively still in a relationship. Walsh might have been having drinks with another woman, but was that any worse than what Emma had been doing?

Lying in the dark, she considered that for a moment. Elsa had referred to her hanging out with Killian as being ripe for cheating. It was, as her blonde friend had told her, all about opportunities. It was easy to be faithful when there was not a guy offering a good time. Harder when the guy looked like Killian and sounded like he had walked out of a romance novel.

The bleating of the phone forced her out of her tired stupor and she held the device over her head. Elsa would text, as would Walsh. No, this was definitely Anna who tended to forget time sensitive propriety when it came to her own hours with a new baby.

"Hi Anna," Emma answered, trying to sound tired and put out to make a show for the younger woman.

"You met a guy and didn't tell me," came a perky yet accusatory voice. "I need details. Is he…"

"Elsa told you…"

"Yes, thank God, because nobody else was going to do it. She said you were thinking about cheating on Walsh. Seriously? Why? Is this guy like Brad Pitt or that guy on that show…that would be the only plausible reason. Walsh is stable and a good catch. Why would you cheat on him? You're going to break his heart. That's so sad."

Emma did not feel particularly tired, but hearing her friend's voice certainly ran her a bit ragged. "Nobody's…"

"I'll be the judge. Elsa said it's not cheating without sex. I say there is emotional cheating. So on a scale of 1 to 10, how serious are you about this guy."

"I'm not answering this," Emma mumbled into the phone. She could picture her bright eyed friend in her bubble gum pink pajamas with the white dots and a matching robe.

"Definitely more than a seven," Anna said, probably taking notes of her observations. "I'm writing down an eight to be sure. Have you spent any time alone with him? If so how much time?"

"Anna!"

"That much," the woman said. "Which base are we talking about? Wait! You know about the bases right? First is the simple stuff. Hand holding, kissing, maybe a little necking. Second base gets into some heavy petting. Over the clothes stuff mostly. Third base is really a point of no return. We're talking serious petting under the clothes and maybe…"

Emma sat straight up in the bed. "Anna!"

The woman was quiet. "Seriously, Emma, talk to me or talk to my sister. We're worried about you. You're like our sister. We love you."

Emma fell back against the bed and felt her body bounce on the mattress. "I'm kind of falling for him," Emma admitted, glad that the phone call was normal and not Facetime or Skype. She waited on the lecture, as Anna was as traditional as they came.

"He must be pretty special," Anna said finally.

"How do you know that?"

"Because you don't fall for just any guy."

"It can't go anywhere," Emma said. "He lives here. I don't. I don't do long distance."

Emma could hear the baby gurgling and Anna's soft words to the infant. "Emma," Anna said warily. "Can't you just enjoy it and not think about the future or the what ifs. Just enjoy it."

Emma and Anna continued their conversation until Kristof came looking for his wife and dragged her back to bed. As much as she loved her best friend, Emma had to admit that the cheerful Anna provided just the relief she needed at that moment. Giving up on sleep and promising herself a mid-morning nap, Emma readied herself for Killian's arrival with breakfast. She may have put on a bit of makeup that she would later claim were her natural looks. She also might have practiced conversation topics in the mirror so that she could figure out what to say to the man.

"Who are you talking to?" Henry asked when he entered the room with his jeans and t-shirt already on and his shoes needing to be tied. Emma seriously wondered if it was a rebellious act that left her constantly reminding her son that shoes should be tied. She was just waiting on the call that said he had broken his neck and that his last words were, in a minute.

Embarrassed, Emma made a little pot of the coffee and sorted through the various items of non-dairy creamer and sugar substitutes that Ruby had left. She was about to ask Henry to go see if he had any different flavors when the familiar knock at the door sounded and she was standing there as he held up his bag of breakfast foods – waffles with various toppings this time.

"You said to surprise you," he said when she opened the door wider and stepped aside for him. He stutter stepped at the doorway, asking permission of sorts.

"Good morning, Killian," she said, using one of the seven lines that she had practiced and not thrown out for being overly boring, brash, or just plain cheesy. She forced on her best and friendliest smile, a part of her practice that she hoped did not look forced.

It must have because he laughed and went straight for the table to begin to set out the waffles, plates, three kinds of syrup, and various fruit toppings. His eyes flicked toward the coffee maker that despite its small size filled the room with that fresh coffee smell that brought a genuine smile to his face.

"I can contribute," she said, proudly gesturing toward the one cup that was waiting and the next one that was currently hissing into existence.

"You put in a pod," Henry said with a roll of his eyes as he plopped himself down in an empty chair. "You didn't go and harvest the coffee yourself."

"Did you tie your shoes?" she asked, ignoring his comments.

As usual, she sent Henry to change his shirt and brush his teeth giving her a few minutes alone with Killian. Her hands were busy gathering up their sticky plates and forks when he grabbed her hand in his and studied her face in a searching way.

"Good morning, Emma," he said after he let his gaze soften. "I can't deny that I've been thinking about you."

She blushed, wanting to scoff at his sentiment and tell him that it was silly to be so sweet at such an early hour. But the other part of her knew what he was saying, as despite all the different thoughts in her head that night, he had been at the forefront. So pushing aside her inner cynic, she smiled back at him. "I've been thinking about you too."

He pressed a quick kiss to her mouth, just seconds, nothing like the night before. But it was enough to connect with him and feel that he was not anything if not genuine with his intentions. "I'll see you tonight?" he asked. "At the dinner?"

She looked down at his hand with hers and sighed. "Maybe we could…"

"Yes?"

"Maybe for lunch? Your class is over at noon, right?"

"Are you asking me on a date, Emma?"

**_Review?_**


	10. Chapter 10

**_Another long chapter…whoops! This one is a little more drama filled, but I hope you enjoy it anyway._**

Emma had spent a lot of time in her yellow bug, both driving and working in it. It felt comfortable to her though it certainly lacked some of the accessories and tools that were available on more modern vehicles. It had a barely working radio, no mention of a CD changer, MP3 player or satellite radio. Air conditioning worked better in the winter and heat in the summer. It was temperamental at times and rarely blended in when she went to any place. The only other good thing she could say for it was that it was a conversation starter, as people often came up and mentioned how they or a friend/relative used to own one just like it. She heard how people had lost their virginity, been proposed to, lived in, and various other things in a car just like hers.

So just when she went to take her morning nap, hoping that a few hours of sleep would prepare her for a conversation with Walsh, the parents' dinner, and dealing with whatever Gold had planned, she was a little surprised to get a call from David Nolan. She agreed to meet him at the station and was waiting for him to arrive and unlock things. Sitting in the well-worn and lumpy seat, she texted her friend.

**Emma: Your sister woke me up this morning.**

**Elsa: If you were alone in your bed, you deserved to be woken up by the cheerleader.**

**Emma: I'm working up some courage here. Don't test me.**

**Elsa: You texted me. So spill it?**

**Emma: Yes, I need help finding someone. **

**Elsa: You have a boyfriend, a boy toy, and now you want a third. Kinky.**

**Emma: I don't.**

**Elsa: Sorry to ask, but which one are you denying.**

**Emma: I need to find Kathryn.**

**Elsa: The woman I spent time kicking out? At your request, I might add. What's with you? **

**Emma: Just do it.**

Emma stared at her phone after the conversation ended, wondering if Siri could answer tougher questions than the closest Chinese restaurant. But thankfully David arrived and she had very little time to worry about Elsa's understanding of the instructions.

David blew through the small talk quickly, asking after both she and her son, plus getting in a few questions about Killian that she promptly ignored. He nodded and became all business, pulling out an 8X10 photograph and using two fingers to push it across the desk. Emma glanced at the picture and felt her eyes widen with surprise. "She…"

"Let me explain," David said, closing his mouth and going to stand before he continued. He took the four steps to the door and shut it tightly. "I have someone coming in and I'd rather not let him overhear this."

She nodded, feeling a bit sick to her stomach. "Just tell me."

"Gold Holdings is a rather large company with a lot of interests up and down the eastern seaboard," David said, folding his hands in an almost prayerful manner. "Kathryn is one of his employees. He paid for her education and has had her working on his legal team ever since. He has another employee in that area who I think you might know. Judging from the way you looked like you'd seen a ghost…"

"She's my boyfriend's ex," Emma said stoically, neglecting the part where she saw a picture from a cell phone of them the night before. "She's…"

"She's the half-sister of our town's mayor," David explained a bit impatiently. "She's not got the best reputation, but as I understand it Mr. Gold has helped her out in the past and found her a job with some sort of fashion magazine."

"Accessories editor," Emma supplied, as though the title made any difference at all. "I don't get it. Why does Mr. Gold need an accessories editor?"

"There is little that Gold does that does not include a deal of some kind, blackmail really. He paid for school for Kathryn and I'd assume he did something similar for Zelena. He doesn't do these things out of the goodness of his heart. He does it to control them, own them, or make them do his bidding."

Her thoughts immediately turned to her son, the boy whom Gold wanted to control now. It would be easy enough to accept tuition money from the man, but at what cost. Would he expect things of Henry immediately or would he get that call someday and meet his grandfather in some abandoned warehouse with several associates nearby. She needed to stop watching mob movies.

David seemed to be able to read her mind. "He's looking for your weakness, Emma," he said. "From best I can tell, Kathryn's been assigned to look into your business and see if things are truly as strong between you and your partners as you have portrayed. Zelena is probably looking into your private life." Looking down at the photograph again, he frowned. "You've been spending time with Killian Jones, which I'm sure you realize is not exactly something Mr. Gold would like you to do. So maybe this is a way to make sure you pay more attention to your boyfriend. If you view Zelena as competition, it would work in Gold's favor. Your jealousy and possessiveness would take over." He pulled open another drawer and extracted a single sheet of yellow paper. "Emma, I don't usually do this kind of work. I'm not an investigator and I'm sure not in the white crime unit. It's just that all of this seems to be pointing to one thing."

"Which is?" Emma asked, well aware of her own interpretation. He waited for her and she waited too. A game of chicken ensued, willing the other to blink first. David lost.

"He's been watching you and Henry. Or having people do it. He's not your run of the mill stalker type though. He's not searching out your Facebook page or friend requesting you under an alias."

"Is he dangerous?" Emma asked, for the first time considering that she might not be able to handle things.

"He's not someone you want to mess with, Emma. I don't know his plan, but you can bet he has one for Henry and probably for you. So I'm going to tell you to be careful. I probably sound like your father saying that, but I'm serious. Be careful, Emma."

***AAA***

Just like before she had met with David, Emma held the phone in her hands and waited on the exasperated but still friendly voice of Elsa to pick up and answer her. She was not disappointed.

"The train was late, escalator was broken, and I swear they are letting anyone into the city right now," she said, panting and then barking out a coffee order. It was Elsa's one vice, iced coffee with caramel and whipped cream no matter what the weather. "I'm about to pack up and move to the wilderness with you and Henry."

"This isn't the wilderness," Emma protested, unsure why she was defending the town. "It has stuff…"

Elsa huffed in annoyance and barked out another instruction about using a dome top for the cup rather than something to squish down her whipped cream. "So this must be serious," she said. "You aren't texting and you said something about meeting with a police chief or sheriff."

"He's been watching me. Probably for years." Emma said the words that sounded ominous to her own ears. "He's been…"

"Wait," Elsa said, a loud clatter indicating that she was settling herself into one of the metal patio chairs rather than continuing to walk while balancing her purse, briefcase, phone, and coffee. "Start over. Who are we talking about?"

"Henry's grandfather," Emma said with her own sigh of frustration and vague fear. "He's actually the landlord on the building where we rent office space. He's the reason that we got a good deal."

Elsa was taking a long sip, thinking about her response. "Well, it's not that good of a deal. The fuses keep blowing and I lost a four page report yesterday because of it. Whatever. What else? I know there has to be more."

"That Kathryn woman and Walsh's ex-girlfriend both are connected to him. Then there is Walsh. This law firm he's decorating? The loft space that needed staging for a real estate friend. That's Gold too. And I'm not sure but it looks like he's even had people hire us. Some of our bigger paydays have come from him"

If Emma could picture her friend right then she knew that Elsa's lips would be pursed and her eyes practically swirling with the information in her head. "Seriously?" she asked, sounding almost condescending. "So this guy…this rich guy…has been watching you and helping you out financially? Yes, it's creepy, but it's not that bad of a thing. Let's face it he's being more of a fairy godmother than a mobster godfather."

Emma groaned loudly at the pun. "I don't like it," she reconfirmed. "I don't like people controlling me, even from a distance. He's been pulling the strings on my life and making me think that things happened because of chance or even fate. Instead, it's because of him and his desire to have control over Henry? That's sick."

"But what if it was just him trying to help you," Elsa said warily, playing devil's advocate to perfection. "Henry's his grandson. And for most of Henry's life, his father did precious little to help you either emotionally or financially. This could just be his way of…I don't know…helping support him."

"Then write me a check," Emma said, flopping back against the seat of her car. "If you want to help someone, you don't do it like this. And don't put this on Neal. He didn't even know Henry existed until a year or so ago. I didn't track him down and tell him."

"So we've established that the guy's tactics are a little creepy and could potentially be seen as stalkerish. Now what? Do you calculate how much the guy's helped you? Us? Do you write him a check? Do you tell him off? What's the plan here, Emma? I'm here for you. I'll do my part, but my coffee is getting cold."

"Your coffee is always cold. It's iced coffee."

"True, but the ice is melting and it's getting watery. So what's the plan? I haven't heard back from any of my leads on this Kathryn woman."

"I'm not sure that I have one, but I guess I need to deal with this. I need to figure out how and what to do about everyone he's had spying or interfering."

"Walsh?" Elsa asked, sounding more hesitant than usual. "You're going to break up with the guy because he worked for this Mr. Gold – whose name sounds like a comic book villain by the way."

"I kind of have to," Emma declared, closing her eyes. "It's not just that connection. I figured out before all this that he's not the right guy for me. I just don't feel anything when we kiss or when…"

"You kissed the hot guy with the accent and the boat!" Elsa screamed as Emma wondered how many people were in the coffee shop that heard her friend. "I'm so proud of you!"

"I'm not sure that my kissing a guy while I'm in a relationship with someone else deserves your appreciation, but thank you," Emma said with a short laugh. "Anyway, that's what I need your help with too."

Elsa, clearly still gloating with the news, stopped her humming celebration to question Emma. "What? You want me to deliver a note?"

"He's not in his office or store today," Emma said. "Can you locate him for me? It'll be easier for you since my wifi sucks right now."

"No wifi in the wilderness, got it," Elsa said. "Sure. I can do that. So you want to break up with him in person?" Emma got the distinct impression that her friend was chewing, probably on a cheese danish, which was her other weakness.

"I think I owe it to him rather than over the phone."

"I don't know, I broke up with a guy via text message once," Elsa recounted. "And then there was that date that went so bad I ran into the restroom and texted him that I was called away. I waited until he was gone and then snuck out."

"They don't call you the ice queen for nothing," Emma said with a laugh. "But seriously, thank you."

***AAA***

Killian proudly inspected the fish that his students had caught that morning, giving praise to each of them for their bountiful selections. He was enjoying himself, despite the drama that came with working with children that age. There had been three arguments that morning, a tearful girl on the verge of a break down because some other boy in town had been seen holding hands with another girl from an upper grade.

"Do we have to learn how to cook these?" Henry asked when Killian moved to him. His nose wrinkled at the smell and he looked a bit green. "I like fish sticks, but this is…"

"You'll be getting a few lessons from Mrs. Lucas over at the diner, but the majority of the cooking will be done by the adults, I presume." His smile flashed to the boy who stepped back from the bucket of fish. "You did a marvelous job. All are a good size, variety, and will taste great. Much better than fish sticks."

"Better than dino chicken nuggets?"

Killian chuckled lightly, not wanting to catch the other children's attention. Henry was a favorite of Killian's, but he also knew the boy did not need the pressure of his peers learning that he was spending extra time with a teacher. Children at that age could be callous in their attempts to build their own self-esteem. He did not want Henry to feel the brunt of that. "Aye, lad, there is nothing better than a good seafood dinner that's fresh from the day's catch."

The students were packing up their items and bidding Killian a goodbye as Granny managed to load the diner's van up with the fish. Waving off his help, Granny lifted, tugged and tossed the buckets into the back of the vehicle and shot a half smile at him before reminding him that he still owed for dinner from two weeks ago. She had a mind like a steel trap.

He peeled off a few dollars to hand to her, asking as innocently as he could if Emma had been around that morning. The woman's glare was certainly a warning.

"She's a good girl," Granny said, squinting over top of her glasses. "She doesn't need you being a bad influence on her."

He frowned back at her. "You have so little confidence in me?"

"I know you, Killian Jones. I knew your brother. I knew your parents."

"Aye, that you did. But maybe Emma's a good influence on me?" He smiled at the thought that he might actually could see that. He did feel like he was becoming a better man for just knowing her and wanting to not only impress her but make her proud of him.

She threw her hands up as if she was giving up on the conversation. "You're probably beyond help. Just be careful with her. I don't need her coming back to her room crying over something stupid you did or said." She pursed her lips. "She's been around this morning, but she left a little bit ago after she talked to the sheriff. Seems she was a bit angry about something and was outside for a while in her car on her phone. I hope that had nothing to do with you."

"I swear milady," he said in his most formal tone. "I have done nothing…"

"Sure you didn't," Granny declared. "Either way. She wasn't there when I left."

Killian was about to ask more when his phone vibrated and Granny took that as her clue to leave and follow the bus from the docks back to the school for the afternoon of cooking and teaching. Like Killian, she was not typically one who worked with children. Her gruff nature was certainly not something that brought out the best in children and sometimes scared them. He almost wished he could watch her attempt to teach knife skills to the group.

Looking down at the phone, he felt his heart sink.

**Emma: Rain check on lunch? I have to take care of something out of town. I'm sorry.**

**Killian: Is everything alright?**

**Emma: Yes, just need to clear a few things up before dinner tonight. Did you guys catch anything good?**

**Killian: The sea was good to us today. Perhaps you would let me take you out for a sail one of these days?**

**Emma: I'd like that. I need to go though. Just stopped to get gas and need to drive now. See you soon?**

**Killian: Not soon enough.**

***AAA***

Emma nosed her car into the parking spot at the Portland, Maine municipal building, grateful to find one of the few remaining places. Elsa's research had been quick and accurate, pegging Walsh as being at an estate sale in the northern state. Ignoring the pang that he had been so adamant that he did not want to visit her in Storybrooke when he was going to be no more than 90 minutes away, Emma gathered her bag and gave the door a final shove as she climbed the stairs and followed the signs to the multipurpose room near council chambers.

She saw him almost immediately with his back ramrod straight and his suit perfectly pressed in a light tan shade that made Emma wonder how he ever kept it clean. He was dutifully perusing a catalog of the items up for auction that included antique furniture and first editions of both books and prints that would make a shop owner like Walsh drool in anticipation.

She swallowed, her eyes blinking behind a large pair of sunglasses as she watched him. This was going to be a difficult thing and for not the first time she wondered if she was doing the right thing. She could have done this over the phone or a dozen or so more modern ways of communication. She could have gone old school and written him a letter, but she was not like that. She wanted to see him. She wanted to say what she had to say and end things without doubts or worry.

She moved up two more rows and was just starting to breathe again when he turned. Maybe he heard a sound or maybe he felt her eyes on him, but the recognition was almost instantaneous. Surprise registered on his face and so did a bit of sheepishness as his hands seemed to pull at his thin tie.

"I needed to talk to you and the phone didn't seem appropriate," she said when his eyes implored the unspoken question of her presence. "I just needed…"

"We didn't leave things well last night," he agreed reluctantly. "And I'm guessing you are angry that I'm here and hadn't called you or texted you yet."

Emma stood anchored to the beige carpet that seemed threadbare and dirty despite the advertisements of its time claiming stain resistance. Florescent lights overhead hissed and flickered in a way that she knew would make Walsh crazy. He hated artificial lighting and florescent lights were at the top of that list. "You would have called eventually," she said, not sure if she believed that was true or even cared that much. It was more of a convenience that he was in the state and not an issue over her ego at that point.

He bobbed his head in agreement, his right hand twisting the tie around his knuckles and then unwinding it again. "I'm glad to see you."

Her tight lipped smile was not exactly welcoming, nor was it a sign of her acceptance that he was being upfront with her. "We need to talk. Things…things are complicated right now." She inwardly cringed, recognizing the standard speech she was about to give and hoping that she could at least manage some unique words that wouldn't sound like a script.

"Emma," he said, shaking his head. "Let me go first. I know you're upset about my not supporting you in all this. I know that. And I wish I could say that I would do things differently. But I think we have something, Emma. I think we have something promising and special."

The circles were dark under his eyes and his skin seemed a bit pale, which made her wonder if he was coming off a bender or a sleepless night. She had never seen him quite so thrown together before, she thought, noting the faint coffee stain on his cream colored shirt. "No," she said. "I don't think we do. I think we have something comfortable and it would probably be that way for a while."

"You don't want comfortable?" he asked, sounding nearly appalled. Someone nearby looked at them and Emma realized it sounded like they were talking about furniture.

"I think we both want more than comfortable," Emma said.

"You met someone?" he asked, very little question to it. "I can tell."

Emma rocked backwards, almost taken aback by the accusation that was legitimate, but out of character for him. Then it hit her again. The connection with Zelena. The connection with Gold. She narrowed her eyes on him, squeezing out the last vestiges of emotion. "Why didn't you tell me about Mr. Gold? Your client? One of your biggest, I assume?"

"I…I didn't…"

"You knew," Emma said, more matter of factly than accusatory. "You knew who Henry's grandfather was because we talked about it. I even showed you a profile of him online. You knew I was coming to visit and you didn't bother to tell me that two of your last three big clients were him doing business as different companies. You didn't tell me that a woman who still has strong ties to him is your ex-girlfriend? When were you…Never mind. I don't care. I don't want to know the answers to those questions because they don't matter. Just like Gold was trying to manipulate my life and my son's life, you were right there playing along. Were you spying on me? Were you telling him things?"

Walsh's surprised turned to a simmering rage, his eyes flashing and nostrils flaring angrily. "You weren't worth the paycheck, darling."

"What?"

He clearly had not meant to say that, but there was no going back now. "He's been aware of you and Henry for years, but his attention was focused on that ungrateful son of his. After Neal died, he had to make sure that Henry was being raised right and properly. You aren't exactly the poster child for stable motherhood, Emma. So he began to intervene. Didn't you notice that after Neal's death that Henry began to win scholarships?" Walsh's fingers made air quotes around the word that he practically spat out. "You got more jobs. I think that was his total plan for a while, but then he heard you were dating. I think it was that writer guy – August. So that's when he contacted me."

"You were paid to date me?" Emma asked, her voice trembling not with regret but anger. "Were you?"

"I was paid to keep an eye on you and keep the unseemly sorts away from you," he clarified. "I'm not an escort. I'm just a furniture shop owner who saw it as a quick way to make some money. You're hardly my type though so that should have been your first clue."

"I didn't…" She knew he was right. It was a clue. She wasn't his type and his persistence that she go out with him was yet another one. Her eyes closed for a brief second as she let it sink in fully. "Then this whole thing shouldn't be a problem for you. You shouldn't care that I met someone new. You also shouldn't care that I know about you having drinks with Zelena last night or up until about five minutes ago that I was worried I was going to hurt you by telling you that I've been…"

"Save yourself the words," he said, waving his hand as though he could push away the confession. "Mr. Gold knows all about you and the one handed guy. He's not happy about it and I can guarantee that he'll put a stop to it. You have fallen into his plans perfectly. For someone who claims to be so smart and observant, you have pretty much failed."

***AAA***

Elsa told her to just hang on that she would be there as soon as she could, swearing that Anna and Kristof would probably supply her with enough chocolate gelato for them to lock themselves away for a month and never come out. "We can watch romcoms and bash men. We can bar hop and find new men. I can tell you about how Will accidentally called me by his late wife's name. We're both horrible at this relationship stuff, Emma. Let me come up there and get you. It'll make me feel better."

"Elsa, that's sweet, but I have to get back for Henry's thing. It's tonight and it's really important." She had pulled her car into the side parking lot of a diner that looked as though it had seen better days. Paint peeling and letters burnt out on the sign, Emma knew it must be better than it looked for the number of customers going in and out. "I need to drive back."

"Where are you now?" Elsa asked, the sound of her pencil scratching on paper indicating that she was writing something down as Emma told her the name of the place. "Just stay there. Don't leave until I call you back, okay? You sound upset and I don't want you driving like that."

Emma's throat burned and her eyes stung. She had not cried in front of Walsh, but it had been a full-fledged breakdown over the phone with Elsa. Every doubt she had about herself and every thought she'd ever hyper-obsessed on was stirring inside her, confirmed by a man who admitted he had feigned interest in her strictly for a paycheck. She looked at the clock on her dash and sighed. Elsa was right. She had time for a cup of coffee and to calm herself down before she took off again.

As the parking lot had indicated, the business was booming and almost every seat was taken. Emma chose a stool at the bar and ordered a coffee from a waitress who had merely grunted and shoved a menu in front of her as she barked out someone's order to a hairy man working the grill. Emma might have been annoyed that it took a full 20 minutes for her coffee to arrive and even then it wasn't what she ordered, but she was too busy thinking how she was going to tear Mr. Gold's fingers off one by one. It was more than hour before her order of a grilled cheese and cup of soup arrived and another 10 minutes before she waved down one of the waitresses for a spoon. Throwing down the exact change for her bill, Emma jumped as she heard his familiar voice.

"Fancy running into you here, love," Killian said, a smiling and slightly windblown Ruby beside him. She wasn't sure why he was standing there looking as though they had just ran into each other at Granny's rather than some dump in suburban Portland. He opened his arms wide and she landed against him while Ruby prattled on about her car, bugs committing suicide against her windshield and a speeding ticket.

"You're going to get David to call and get that taken off my record," she told Killian, who was still cradling Emma against him and trying to gracefully move them toward the door as a waitress told them to either sit down and order or leave.

The sun was still high overhead in the parking lot as Ruby provided the brief explanation that Elsa had called the main number and Granny's and demanded to talk to the waitress with the red streak. Two minutes later Ruby was calling Killian and the two of them had made a drive that usually took 90 minutes in 65, which would have been shorter if they hadn't been pulled over. Killian said nothing, just watching Emma as she leaned against her car and nodded that she understood.

Ruby lurched forward a bit uncomfortably and hugged her, saying she was glad to help. She then slapped Killian on the chest and smile. "You take her back. I'm driving myself."

He smiled, reaching out to pluck the keys from Emma's hand as she gaped. "I'll get the lady safely home," he said. Unlocking the passenger door, he held it open for her and then ran around to the driver's side for himself. "I've always wanted to drive one of these."

They were a good 15 miles out of the city when she finally spoke. "What about the dinner? Weren't you supposed to help with that?"

"David took my place," he said. "He and Mary Margaret are going to keep Henry at their house until we return. Don't worry. I didn't say anything about what was going on, just that I needed to get to you and they were eager to comply with my wishes."

"Do you know what happened?"

Killian swallowed, making a quick glance into the rearview mirror as his one hand rested on the steering wheel and the other arm was folded at his side. "I don't know all the details," he said. "Your friend told Ruby that you had gone to see Walsh and that it went badly. That's all I needed to know."

"That's an understatement." She sighed, uncurling her fingers and inspecting the red half-moons that appeared from digging her fingernails into her palm. "I didn't need to be rescued though. I was okay to drive. I am okay."

"I don't doubt it," he said sincerely. "Don't think of this as a rescue, love. Think of it as a road trip. You're rescuing me from Ruby's driving at the moment. The woman is a bloody hellcat behind the wheel. She'll beat us back by a good half hour at least." He let himself look at her, winking as though she looked amused at him. "Since it is a road trip, do you think we have time for a quick souvenir stop? Maybe some t-shirts, postcards, or one of those collectible spoons."

She managed a laugh, her bare knees hitting the glove compartment. "I'm holding out for a magnet. Something with the word Maine on it and the outline of the state with a whale jumping out of it."

"Anything you desire is yours, love, just say the word."

She reached between her legs to pull up the bag she had been carrying and rooted through it for her hair brush. Silently she brushed her hair, waiting on him to ask her a question or make some remark about her obviously distraught state. "Are you going to ask what happened?"

Killian shrugged. "I suppose that you'll open up and tell me when you wish or you won't," he said, merging in with some of the travelers who had gotten an early start on the weekend. Every car around them had a canoe or kayak on the roof, bicycles held to the trunks. "And for that bastard's safety, I prefer not to know at the moment. We're still close enough that I could turn this car around and go back to Portland. I may only have one hand, but I could do some damage. Plus I have friends in the fish cannery business. We know what to do with the body."

She provided her first genuine smile at the image of Killian punching Walsh, which she in part regretted that she had not done herself. "He wasn't who he seemed."

Killian nodded as though waiting for her to say more. "You deserve better," he said when she remained silent.

"Like you?"

"It would be bad form for me to market myself to you after saying something distasteful about your former lover." He frowned, not liking that word.

"Other than calling him a bastard, you haven't said anything distasteful or untrue," she said, examining the nails on her fingers and paying attention to her cuticles. "I don't mind."

"Then I must have only thought those distasteful things," he said. "Believe me. I've been telling him off in my mind since Ruby called." A car passed them with so many people that the back end hung low to the ground. The car's stereo created a vibration through them.

"You don't even know what he did," she said.

"He hurt you. That's the only thing I needed to know."

***AAA***

The Nolans' backyard was the perfect place for the students' dinner for the parents. Paper lanterns hung on strings from tree to tree. There were activities set up in various corners, including a photo booth with various costumes and props for the participants. The food overflowed from the table where both Granny and Mary Margaret fussed over it and were quick to tell the parents which dishes their little scholars had made for the occasion so that they could get extra helpings.

Henry did not comment on Emma's red cheeks or puffy eyes. She hoped it was because her makeup covered it up, but he could not have been blind to the sympathetic looks from Killian or the way that the man never left her side. Henry had dragged them both over to the photo booth and after two shots with his mother, he waved the man in and asked him to join them. Emma nodded in agreement.

"You probably have things to do," she said as they watched Henry attempt a duet on a karaoke machine that someone named Jefferson had brought. He didn't respond verbally, just taking her hand in his and watching at Henry and some boy began to add dance moves to their routine. "He gets his musical inability from me."

"Does that mean I cannot convince you to serenade me, love?" he whispered. "I was starting to like the idea."

She laughed, bumping his shoulder with her own. "One of my music teachers in middle school told me that there was no shame in lip-syncing. I don't think you want to hear me."

He did not look as though he believed her, but waited until Henry's performance was over and he was running to join an impromptu game that was a cross between Frisbee and baseball. "Come with me?" he asked. He pulled her up next to him and walked along the perimeter of the yard, telling her of how hard it had been to move the Nolans into their house when none of their furniture matched and both were at odds as to its placement.

"Sounds horrific," she said mockingly, grinning at him.

"You have no idea, love," he said, squeezing her hand tightly. "I will never endure such a task again."

She did not ask him where they were going and even managed not to think about what anyone else might think of their disappearance. He passed to the end of the property and through a pretty wide opening to a rocky and sandy path to a small dock where a boat was located. She raised her eyebrow.

"This is our transportation tomorrow, but I didn't bring you here for that," he said. "I thought you could use a few minutes away from everyone."

She looked at the wide creek and smiled at the darkened woods on either side that hid their contents from her in the dimming light. "Does that mean you're going to leave me here alone?" she asked, bending her arm and pulling him closer to her.

"If you wish for me to," he said, his head slanted downward to look at her. "I don't want to…"

She closed her eyes, trying to remember how she had felt the night before when he had kissed her. How had she managed to feel free and light, despite her lingering doubts and guilt about Walsh? Why was it harder now? "I want to tell you," she said, her eyes opening to his look of concern for her. "I don't want to tell you so that you'll get mad or pity me."

He kissed her forehead gently, the warmth of his lips spreading on her skin. "You don't have to," he said. "I don't have to know."

She breathed deeply and began to tell him. There were pauses when her voice cracked and when she saw his jaw pop in clenched anger and his eyes flash with untold plans for revenge or some other vengeance. She found herself forgetting her own feelings of inadequacy and betrayal as she soothed his anger. It may have been on her behalf, but she felt herself realizing the depths of his anger against Mr. Gold that had been years in the making. Her free hand smoothed over his jaw and fingers silenced him when he muttered things that she wasn't sure were totally about her.

"Emma, no man should treat you in such a way," he said when she had finished explaining how things had been left. "And while I cannot deny that I have feelings for you, I say this as objectively as I can. I hope you and Henry find happiness whether that's with someone new in your life or within yourselves. You deserve so much better than a fraud like Walsh could ever offer. And as for Mr. Gold, I cannot say I'm surprised, but that doesn't make it right. You're a wonderful mother to Henry. I have seen that since we first met. Don't let that man's low opinion of anyone but himself do anything to make you feel like you aren't good enough."

"You must think I'm a mess," she said. "Since I've met you, I've cried, screamed, fallen all over myself at least a thousand times."

"That's pure hyperbole," he said with a smile. "Maybe 100 or so would be more accurate."

"In five days, that's pretty sad."

"I don't know," he said, leaning back as though examining her. "I like the fact that you are comfortable enough to show me and tell me your insecurities. I like to think that it perhaps means that you trust me not to hurt you." His blue shirt seemed to compliment his eyes rather than compete with them and it felt soft against her skin that was exposed in the red and white sundress she had worn.

"That's a hard thing for me to do," she admitted. "I don't have a good track record there, but I'd like to be able to do that. I want to trust you."

His eyes closed as though her words somehow hurt him. She tensed at his reaction, trying to figure out what she had said wrong. "Love, I don't want you to have any doubts over me or if I am going to protect you or hurt you. If I am so lucky that you wish for me continue to pursue you and win your heart, I can assure you that I will treat it and you as the most precious gifts I have ever been given. If I don't, I will hand you the knife to cut out my own heart and feed it to me."

She leaned her forehead onto his shoulder, breathing in the scent of him as he waited for her response. Pulling her head back to look up at him, she smirked. "That's sweet, Killian. And a little gross."

"Perfect imagery for the mother of an almost teenager," he said with a chuckle, his handless arm pulled her tighter around her shoulders, dropping a kiss to her mouth, quick at first and then more fervent. When she pulled back from him, eyes wide and cheeks flushed, he couldn't help but smile a little proudly at her. "Just so you know, Emma, I trust you."

**_Bye-bye Walsh!_**

**_Review?_**


	11. Chapter 11

**_So last chapter had a little angst and there will be more coming (next chapter *cough*), but this chapter is a little more fluffy and certainly longer. I kept looking for places to cut it and couldn't find one. So I give it to you in its entirety. _**

"I'm doing the right thing, aren't I?" Emma asked as she slid into the booth across from Killian. It has been a long morning already despite the fact that she got to sleep a full hour later than normal. Getting a 12-year-old packed for a one night camping trip had been an adventure. First he couldn't find the list of items that he was supposed to bring. Then he couldn't fit those items into his duffle bag with the other items – hand held game device, charger, and comic books – so he threatened to leave other things like his flashlight behind. When Emma said that if he insisted on bringing all of those things then she could only pack him in a wheeled suitcase, he's pouted for 15 minutes. However, he was finally packed and on a passenger van with a pile of other sleepy and over packed students.

"About breakfast?" Killian asked. "I think so. Granny's soft scrambled eggs are better than her fried. And I always go with the strawberry rather than the grape jam."

"About Henry," she said, rolling her eyes dramatically. "I just found out that we have a man who has been watching our every move and plotting to become a part of our lives. So what do I do? I send my son off into the woods with a man who was having dinner with Mr. Gold just a few nights ago. I'm an idiot."

"Robin is not someone you need to worry about, love," Killian said. "He was at that dinner to appease his wife who was there for political reasons. I've known Robin since I was a young lad. There's nothing to worry about with him. He's solid."

"I guess I'm a little paranoid," she admitted. "Hospital or not, he's got know that I'm aware of the whole Walsh thing." She looked at her plate. "I'm sorry. We're supposed to be enjoying breakfast and not talking about my paranoia."

"If this is bothering you, I want to know about it," he said with a shrug. "I prefer to keep you smiling so whatever it takes to get you back to that state is fine by me."

Gripping a knife in one hand and a fork in the other, Emma looked down at her plate as though it might be something to be attacked. "I don't like feeling out of control," she admitted. "However, if you say I can trust Robin and John to keep an eye out on Henry, then I'm going to believe that. I promise I'll be better company today with your friends."

"And I promise you that he will be fine. You have Robin's phone number and I'll even check in with the bloke every hour if you wish." He pulled out his own phone as if he was going to make a call.

Emma laughed. "It'll be fine. I have to get a grip. I want to protect my son, but I don't want to become that crazy mother who raises a son afraid of his own shadow."

"Perhaps you would feel better talking to David," Killian suggested. "He might be able to provide some insight into your options for recourse. Gold is a powerful man, but he's not omnipotent."

"Already on that," Emma said. "He told me to come by about an hour before everyone else is to arrive for our little trip."

"Making dates without me, love?" Killian teased. "And with a married man?"

Emma felt a shadow fall on the table, her face turning upward to greet the waitress and ask for a bit more coffee when she saw Ruby standing there. The dark haired woman was not in her usual uniform, instead donning a pair of cut off shorts and tank that rose up around her middle to reveal a toned and flat stomach. She smiled at Killian and Emma and then scrutinized the blonde carefully. "I'm here to help," she said dramatically. "You need it."

"Help with what?" Emma asked.

"Your clothes," Ruby said with an eye roll that said Emma should have clearly understood the need for the onset. She waved her hand over the woman and groaned. "Do you even have a bathing suit for this afternoon?"

"Do I need one?"

Ruby gave Killian a look that said she was surprised he was putting up with such a woman. "Of course," she intoned. "Finish your breakfast and we're going shopping. We can't have you out there without the proper attire. Come get me when you're done."

Flouncing off, Ruby stopped to talk to another waitress and waited just a few seats away from Emma and Killian. Emma watched her while Killian kept his amused expression on his dining partner. "We best hurry you along if you're going shopping with Ruby, changing into a new outfit, and meeting with David." She didn't argue, knowing already that Ruby was hard one to get through to with the word no.

About 15 minutes later the two women were standing in front of what looked like a hodgepodge of bathing suits, cover ups and other beach time accessories. Emma could only stand back and watch her new friend dig through the pile of items with a critical and discerning eye. She had tried to pick out a few of them on her own, but Ruby's face clearly told her she was without skill and to just stand back and let a master take over the proceedings.

"You look good in red," Ruby commented, throwing a bright red one piece over her arm. "It's my signature color, but you know…I can share. The woman leaned closer to the blonde and seemed to search her eyes for a moment. "Yesterday your eyes were green. They are more blue today. Hmmmm…." She dug through the pile again, tossing a few items onto the floor where Emma picked them up and tried to save her friend from a stern salesperson warning.

Pulling out a blue and white bikini, Ruby smiled victoriously and handed the two swimsuits to Emma with a shove toward a dressing room that had a small floral curtain rather than a door. Emma was not much of a shopper. She bought her clothes at department stores and half of her sweater collection was a result of gifts from Anna. The dresses she wore for some of her work assignments were usually bought from online retailers.

"So where is your date tonight?" Ruby asked through the curtain where for some unknown reason Emma was actually trying on the swimsuits. "You need something new for it, right?"

"Ruby, I don't need…" Emma didn't finish the sentence. She knew that Ruby was aware of the arrangement that had the Golds paying for the room and board for both her and her son. Emma had gone to Granny the first thing that morning and asked to have the bill switched, but the old woman had refused. She bluntly informed Emma that if that man was so intent on spending his money then they weren't going to stop him from it. Still Emma felt the pinch since she did not want to accept anything from him at all.

"I know the owner here," Ruby said with a roll of her eyes that Emma could not see through the curtain. "Now show me."

Emma felt a bit shyer than normal stepping out from behind the curtain. She knew that she had a good body, one that often earned her compliments. But shopping for a bathing suit always proved a challenge for anyone. She'd tried the red one first, which offered more coverage and appeared almost athletic with a simple scoop neck and a similar fit on the back. She felt her cheeks begin to match the red of the suit as Ruby looked her up and down, mumbling about nail polish.

"I guess it will do," Ruby said, her praise faint for something she had picked out. "It makes you look like a mom though."

"I am a mom," Emma reminded her. "I have a son…Henry."

"Well," Ruby huffed, "you could wear your soccer mom t-shirt as a cover up, drive a minivan and fit right in with the carpool set. I think you need to try on the two piece. Don't you want to make that man drool?"

Emma couldn't think of a retort so she marched back into small dressing room and found herself tugging on the bikini that seemed to hide even less. "Aren't there going to be children on this boat?" Emma asked, thinking of Philip and Aurora's young son and Ashley and Thomas's daughter. "I don't think this is appropriate."

"So you'll wear a cover up and strip out of it in front of Killian," she said. "It'll be great." Emma was not so sure that she could pull it off, but after adjusting a few things, saying a silent prayer for the durability of spandex and elastic, and reminding herself to thrust her shoulders back and chest out, she peeled back the curtain and walked out to the eyes of Ruby. "That's the one."

"I haven't worn a bikini in like forever," Emma said, grasping at straws at this point. "I didn't even in high school." She ignored Ruby's request that she twirl in front of the mirror.

"Then it is a miracle I got you into that one," Ruby said, signaling the one and only sales girl in the place. "It's perfect. Now on to date night clothing."

"I don't really know our plans for tonight," Emma admitted as the sales woman snagged the tag off the suit and marched over to the register without a word to either of them. Emma shot Ruby a look to see if she'd just seen that, but the brunette was flipping through a rack at blinding speed.

"Not knowing where or what creates somewhat of a problem, but I've had worse."

An hour later Emma had a bag of clothes and a promise to help the woman behind the counter find her ex-boyfriend from a few years ago. She just knew he was the one, she told Emma, but even Facebook and Twitter were not helping her find her prince charming.

Emma slipped up the backstairs of the bed and breakfast, shot a quick text to Henry to check on him, answered one from Anna about the state of her well-being, and managed to put on the bikini, sunblock that Henry had managed to leave out of his supplies, a pair of shorts and a peasant type blouse as a cover-up and a comfortable pair of espadrilles after she bent herself like a contortionist to paint her toes per Ruby's instructions. Boating, wind, and water did not bode well for heavy makeup, so she threw on a bit of concealer under her eyes, a smidge of mascara that she thought was water proof, and a splash of perfume that was a lot better of a scent than the bug band around her wrist.

Killian arrived 20 minutes before her meeting with David and just as she was tying her hair off in a thick braid. His jeep looked freshly cleaned in the morning sunshine and she had to ask him about it since he had also changed into more casual clothes and from the damp tips of his hair appeared to have managed a shower and trimmed the scruff on his face. Even his minty fresh kiss indicated some time had been taken with his grooming. She smiled against his mouth when he asked if she had found a bathing suit with Ruby.

"Some of the high school kids were doing a carwash for band camp or something," Killian said of his newly washed jeep. "Who am I to deny them their enterprise?"

He did not bring up Walsh, or Gold, or plots as he drove toward the Nolans, managing to share a bit about his own past in the town from pointing out the town's one screen movie theater where he'd had his first kiss to the now defunct ice cream parlor where he'd worked as a teenager for a summer. She was trying to picture him as that teenager with unruly hair and that devilish grin that had his teachers just as flustered as the girls in his classes.

"Do you want me to go with you or should I entertain the lovely teacher for a while?" he asked as they made their way up the walk. "I don't want to intrude."

"You can stay if you want, but I'm sure it will be…"

In the end he did stay, sitting next to her left side with the back of his hand against hers in a gesture that was comforting without the obvious affectionate display. David ran through a few legal options, admitting that he had called in favors in a few police jurisdictions to research what if any charges could stick against Gold if that was her choice.

"He hasn't really broken any laws," David said with a sigh, his gaze trained outside rather than at her. "Believe me when I say that I looked for one. He's not done anything that is particularly illegal. He assisted your business anonymously, which wasn't forced. You chose to accept the clients that you did. He may have paid Walsh, but you agreed to date him. He might have fed you information about this August guy, but again that was your decision to break up with him for whatever reason. He did not approach you in any way that was out of the ordinary. Everything has been quite transparent. He's even told you his desire to have Henry live here in Storybrooke, which no jury would find unusual as a request for a grandfather to make."

"So there is nothing we can do," Killian asked, noting the furrow of David's brows at hearing the word we. "A protective order? A hit man? Anything?" The windows of the shabby chic living room were open and a breeze was billowing the lacey curtains outward at varying intervals. They could hear the roar of a neighbor's lawn mower, the fresh grass scent wafting in and reminding them it was summer. Emma and Killian were sitting side by side on a loveseat that had been recovered and was now doused with throw pillows that made any sitting position awkward. David's strong form looked even sillier sitting perched on a wicker chair that Mary Margaret had repainted white and stuffed with a soft green cushion.

"The man could, I suppose, take you to court over visitation with Henry, but honestly that's a long shot. His health isn't good. It's just a matter of time for him. My suggestion is that you continue to be firm in your decision not to become entwined in this man's business life. As for your son's relationship with him, I can offer some advice as a man who hasn't had a traditional family. Don't let Henry's memories of his father and grandfather be tainted by this. You came here knowing the man was who he was and he's proven that he's worse. But you still wanted Henry to have this connection and link."

"You can't be serious," Killian interjected. "What is she supposed to do? Drink tea with him and thank him for not doing something seriously illegal? That man could have bloody well had her killed or kidnapped Henry. You're suggesting playdates and sleepovers."

"Killian," Emma said, speaking up in a gentle voice after listening to the exchange. The fact that she was the one calming anyone was not lost on her.

He collapsed back onto the pillows, his hand searching out hers despite their decision to keep things friendly but not overly so in front of people that day. She did not pull away, fingers falling between his and grip tightening.

"Thank you for your help," she said to David, revealing nothing of her decisions or thoughts on the matter. "I appreciate you looking into this."

David awkwardly offered his hand in a handshake and backed his way out of the room to an excuse of checking on his wife and her packing of the gear. He stopped just before the doorway with a look to ask them if there was anything else, but they were silent too. Turning on his heel, he was gone with a few heavy footsteps down the hall.

"I don't know how you aren't plotting that man's death," Killian said, his jaw clenched so hard that his words were as tight as his mouth. "He deserves it for the hell…"

"That wouldn't solve anything," Emma said, reclining backward against the pillows that supported her back but not her head and neck. "And I'm trying very hard to be rational here and ignore the fact that I have essentially been duped by a man for more than a year."

"Emma…"

"No," she said, looking out of the French doors that led to a two level deck overlooking the backyard. The yellow paint of the room and matching scatter rugs helped bring the sunny outside in and Emma had to admit that the room, while not her taste, would be the perfect place to curl up and read a book. "Ignoring the fact that he is trying to turn my son into his protégé, let's think about this. He has been supporting my business by feeding me cases that would have and should have gone to much bigger bond companies. Elsa was running the numbers last night and it looks like the man is responsible for more than 60 percent of the money we've been bringing in each month. Even with that we were struggling. So if I throw this back in his face, we're screwed businesswise."

His thumb turned circles on the fleshy part of her hand and the hardened edge to his eyes softened as he watched her calmly admit to something that she would rarely acknowledge. "I'll help you figure that out. We'll get a good business consultant. I think Regina has a friend who…"

"No," Emma said again, smiling at him in a request for patience. "Elsa and I are going to talk with her sister tomorrow, but we're considering selling the business. Anna isn't sure she wants to come back to work what with the baby and all. Elsa's thinking about doing something else. And I might be ready for a fresh start too. It might be time." How many times had she planned for a fresh start? How many mornings had she packed up that little yellow bug and driven off with a AAA map and a sleeping son? She could do it again. Maybe a smaller town this time? Maybe one near the water? Or maybe one where there were great schools and Henry could be the priority instead of what made her feel comfortable. Maybe she could look for her family who had abandoned her. Maybe she could go back to school herself. The possibilities seemed endless.

She could read his furrowed brow expression as the silent question of where he fit into her fresh start. It was way too soon to verbalize that. They had shared maybe a dozen kisses, a few conversations, and a few hugs or hand holds. It wasn't anything more than a flirty friendship at the moment. "You'd really want to do that?" he asked.

"If we got a good price," she said with a little shrug. "It would mean I could do it right this time."

"I have no doubt that you could do anything you put your mind to doing, love," he said, a forced smile punctuating his sentiment. "I'll cheer you on no matter what you decide to do with your business."

She closed the gap between them and kissed his lips tenderly. "Let's not worry about it right now, okay? I've almost put a damper on too many of our chances to be together. So let's just enjoy it. I want to get to know your friends better. And you."

***AAA***

Emma liked Killian's friends. Philip and Thomas both seemed to be jokesters, their laughter reaching the boat that was a few feet longer than the average ski boat. Their children were each perched on their shoulders as their wives mockingly acted annoyed that they were left with the coolers. However, David, Killian, and Ruby's date – a doctor named Victor Whale – were quick to divest them of the items. Emma couldn't help the smile that garnished her own face as the old friends kissed each other's cheeks, hugged, hurled good natured insults, and teased each other mercilessly in a way that only friends can do. She didn't miss the curious glances in her direction, though all of them had obviously seen her or heard of her by now with Storybrooke's small size.

"Ashley," a blonde said, sticking her hand out with a grin. "Killian won't introduce us because he's currently harassing my husband, but I thought I'd say hello."

"Emma," she answered, shaking the extended hand. "And I think I remember from Killian that your daughter is Alexandra and your husband is Thomas, right?"

The woman beamed. "You're good." She adjusted her sunglasses and motioned for her daughter to come over and bring her the orange life vest "So just to warn you, you're going to be interrogated. We're a little protective of Killian and you're going to have to meet our approval." She lowered the sunglasses and squinted. "Mary Margaret, David, and Ruby may have approved, but you have to get through the four of us too. No pressure."

"No pressure," Emma laughed. "What about Victor? He doesn't get a vote?" Given that the doctor had already given her a few appreciative looks that had won him a stern look from Killian and a warning from Ruby, she was sure that was one vote she could manage to wrangle.

"We haven't approved of him yet," Ashley said as she yanked the straps on her daughter's life vest. "To be honest, it's not looking good for him." Once the toddler was securely in her vest and her curly pigtails were ready to bounce, the mother took off in search of the running child.

"She didn't scare you, did she love?" Killian asked, sidling up to her with his left arm around her waist. "Darling?"

"She's just protective of you," Emma said, smiling up at him and his goofily concerned grin that one of his friends might have said something inappropriate. "I think that's pretty nice. You deserve that."

"You seem surprised. Are you telling me when I meet Elsa and Anna that they won't be just as judgmental and protective?"

She thought about that, wondering how the sisters would react to him. They were encouraging over the phone and with one of the cell phone pic shots from the photo booth the night before, but they had not met him and didn't really know him. She did not bring guys around. Walsh had sort of forced his way in, but she now understood why. She had never really dated a guy who even wanted to meet her friends, who were to her like family. "Would you want to meet them?"

"Of course," she said, waving his hand around his face to shoo away a fly that was buzzing near them. "If they are special enough to break through your walls and forma friendship, I'm more than a little curious about them and their techniques."

"Am I that difficult?" she asked, knowing the answer.

"You're well worth any challenge," he said, kissing the tip of her nose as she scrunched up her face. His word choice, though not deliberate, was not lost on her. Just the day before Walsh had said she wasn't worth the paycheck.

"Are we going to sit around looking at each other and smearing sunscreen or are we going parasailing?" Ruby yelled, passing the group loudly discussing the best route once they left the creek. The boat had benches on either side with an opening for boarding. Ruby situated herself on one of the facing benches, whipped off the t-shirt cover up and splayed out on the shining leather seats in the tiniest bikini that Emma had ever seen. It was clear this was her usual attire, as none of the men, other than Victor gave her a second look.

David helped each of the women aboard, as well as lifting the two kids. He was wearing a faded ball cap down over his eyes and Mary Margaret was waving a pair of sunglasses at him and warning him of the dangers of UV rays on the retinas. Philip and Thomas were stowing their wives' straw totes among shouted instructions to bring them books, children's sunblock, and a sippy cup. Killian spoke to David a minute and a few hand gestures on David's part later, they were on their way after Philip managed to untied the boat, throw the rope in and hop aboard without losing his balance. That earned him a smattering of applause that he accepted with a deep bow.

"Sit by me," Aurora said after sending her son off to join Alexandra with some rules about hair pulling and sharing. "We can get to know each other. The woman was slathering on her own sunblock as though she might parasail close enough to the sun to suffer radiation. Her light colored curls were covered by a big floppy hat and her sunglasses covered most of her face. Still she had a sweet smile that was welcoming despite Ashley's earlier warning.

"Hi," Emma said, plopping down with a little less grace than the others who seemed to have no problems moving around the speeding vessel.

"So you're like a cop or something?" Aurora asked, tilting her head back as if to determine if she had enough of the white goo on as protection. "Right?"

"Bail bondsperson," Emma answered.

"Right, right," Aurora drawled. "That's kind of like a cop, I guess. And you've known Killian how long?"

"We met a week ago," Emma said, feeling very much like she was being interrogated.

The questions continued for another few minutes. Every detail from Emma's schooling to plans for the future were discussed. Even favorite books and political views were brought up as casually as possible.

Aurora nodded, probably already knowing that detail. Emma wanted to laugh, the woman clearly had a predetermined list of questions to ask and was going through them until the next in the bunch started on his or her list. "So what did you think of him?" she asked, leaning forward conspiratorially as though they were two girlfriends gossiping over coffee. "Cute right? That's what all the girls think when they meet him. Cute, cute accent, just the right amount cockiness to make him adorably annoying." She laughed as Emma's mouth dropped. "Married, not blind, honey. So what did you notice first?"

Emma looked past the woman at where Killian and David stood at the wheel of the boat, clearly still continuing as discussion. They quickly reached the mouth of the creek and with no hesitation, David swung the vessel to the right and out to the choppier waters of the sound. "His eyes," she said after a second's hesitation. "I noticed his eyes and his smile."

"Good answer," Aurora smiled, pulling her phone out of the deep pocket of her caftan and twisting it in front of them. "Those are my questions. So now I'm going to take a selfie of us for Facebook so everyone in town knows that we aren't killing you. Try not to look too traumatized." Emma laughed and tilted her head in toward the woman for the quick picture that was posted and friend requests exchanged.

"So who is next?" Emma asked, shielding her eyes from the glare of the sun on the water.

"I think Ashley," Aurora said. "Don't worry. You're doing great. And don't tell her I said this, but the guys won't ask anything. They aren't really interested since you're cute enough to get their votes. Get through Ash and you're golden."

One hand on the seat back and the other waving to her husband, Aurora began asking if he had remembered to bring something. Emma tried to take a deep breath and was pleased when it was Killian who sat next to her rather than the blonde from before. The shirt she was wearing as cover up dipped off her shoulder and the thin strap of her top peaked out from underneath. He rested his chin on that same shoulder and handed her a cold dripping bottle of water that made her squeal as the droplets hit her bare thighs. He laughed at her reaction.

"That was mean," she accused, holding the bottle over him as she opened it.

"I was trying to be a gentleman by bringing the lady a drink," he said his lips millimeters away from the skin of her shoulder. "I had no idea your skin was so sensitive."

She pursed her lips in her best impression of a woman unimpressed with his antics, but the need to laugh won out and she giggled at his goofy eyebrow waggle. "I think you're delaying the rest of my interrogation," she said quietly as she caught her breath.

"Are you that anxious for it?"

"No, but it is hard work impressing your friends." She tilted her head toward his. "I want to make a good impression."

Ashley's blond ponytailed self bobbed into view with a smile and a playful swat at Killian that said he had stolen her seat. She was a bit more surefooted than Aurora and managed to stand without the security of the railing, a hand on one hip and a sway of her body to match the movements of the boat. "You don't think it's too windy, do you?" she asked Killian, her head lolling back to look at the puffy clouds that were scattered in the sky. "I'd hate to get out there just to drive back."

"It'll be glorious," Killian said, pulling Emma to his side almost protectively. "If it isn't, we'll figure out something else to bide our time."

"Sounds like there is a lot to worry about and take into consideration," Emma said, eyeing the sky like they were though not quite with the educated eye. "Do you do this a lot?"

"Every weekend the summer we do something on the water," Ashley chimed in as Killian nodded. "The guys have been obsessed with it since we were kids. You're going back soon, aren't you? Do you think that you'll find a way to come up on the weekends and join us? I'm sure that Killian would enjoy that."

"Subtle," Killian said with a chuckle. "Why not ask her if I've inquired about her ring size yet?"

"I didn't want to be too obvious," Ashley whined, cocking her head to the side and looking quite a bit younger in the process. "Just seeing if this is a fling or something serious."

"Ashley," Mary Margaret said as an interruption. Her voice sounded very much like a teacher and her mouth twisted into a look of a woman wanting to shame her friend. "Don't give Emma a hard time. We're all out here to have fun."

Ashley reached out and touched Emma's knee as if it had been Emma wanting to talk. "We'll chat later," she said. "After everyone settles down." The blonde ponytail bounced to the other side of the boat.

Ruby flipped over on the bench so that she was laying on her stomach. Propping herself up on her elbows and bending her knees with her ankles crossed, she eyed Emma carefully and winked over her sunglasses. "Don't worry. It won't take long. They don't have long attention spans. And while most of us can smell fear, they can't over the scent of their cheap perfume."

This statement from Ruby caused another round of banter that left Emma feeling a bit like an outsider and spectator. Killian must have noticed because he began explaining to her how the parasail worked and what the experience was like for people. She tried to let go of her fear of water and heights, but she was admittedly glad when his hand found hers and he squeezed encouragingly.

By the time they reached the open waters of the Atlantic, the group was including Emma as part of the banter. She gladly joined in and earned a few appreciative squeezes from Killian for her efforts. She could tell that despite his comments that she shouldn't worry, his friends' approval of her was important to him. When Aurora told him in a not so quiet whisper that she was a lovely girl as Ashley nodded in agreement, Killian beamed brighter and prouder than she had ever seen.

The friends took turns in pairs on the parasail, even getting dipped on occasion which usually resulted in screams and excited but breathless conversation once back aboard the boat. Killian insisted that since Emma was his guest that he would accompany her and to her amazement she didn't chicken out. It only took him reminding her once to open her eyes for her to look out on the blue water from high above and marvel over it with him. He pointed things out to her, let her ask questions about different things she saw, and kissed her sweetly as they floated above it all. She could not even find the words to describe the sensation once she back on the boat, but he told her that her eyes said it all as they danced with excitement.

Their late lunch on a beach had been typical picnic fare that included one of Granny's pies as brought by Emma. Ruby had joked that it looked familiar, but her own contribution was some of Granny's potato salad. The kids played in the surf with the adults taking turns to entertain them, especially David and Killian who chased them, threatened to throw them in the water and joined Emma in building sandcastles with them.

The ride back to the Nolans seemed shorter than the ride out, but it may have been the quiet calmness that had settled over the group. Emma managed to keep up with updates from Robin about Henry who was having a blast. And before the food comas settled on most of the passengers, Emma found herself nodding off with her head on Killian's shoulder.

By the time she woke up, she was in the jeep and Killian was driving back toward town. "How did I get here?" she asked, confused and a bit embarrassed.

Killian glanced over at her curled form, using his jacket as a blanket in the front passenger seat. "I didn't want to wake you so I carried you to the jeep after we got back."

Running a hand over her eyes and yawning, she attempted to untangle herself carefully. "I didn't even say goodbye to everyone," she protested. "I didn't mean to be rude."

Killian laughed and explained that Mary Margaret had been out too, as had both kids. "Besides. We all get together on Sunday morning for breakfast at Granny's. Perhaps you'd like to join us?"

She stretched her arms over her head and smiled what she hoped was a seductive smile at him. "Oh and here I thought you'd be making me breakfast in bed in the morning," she teased. The reaction was just what she had wanted as he swerved and cursed under his breath. "Back on the road, mister," she laughed.

"That was a bloody cruel way to tease a man, Swan," he said. "You could have killed me. Then where would we be? And we've still got our date tonight."

***AAA***

**Henry: I saw a skunk!**

**Emma: It didn't spray you, did it?**

**Henry: No, I'm fine.**

**Emma: Be careful.**

Emma grimaced as Ruby pulled the curling iron dangerously close to her face. Still bronzed and a bit pink from the boat, Emma had rushed up the stairs on quaking and quivering legs to get ready for her date. While she often referred to Elsa as the Ice Queen, Emma was known in their circle as the Queen of Denial. She compartmentalized everything, ignored what was unpleasant and thrust forward with as much determination as she could muster. It made a strong woman and one not to be messed with at all. But even she had to admit that this with Killian was different than her usual technique.

"If you keep fidgeting I'm going to have to take you to the burn unit," Ruby said, arranging one of the bouncing curls perfectly. "Sit still."

"Sorry," Emma said, closing her eyes and breathing in deeply. "I'm an idiot. How can I be like this?"

"Excited about a date? I'd say that's pretty normal."

Emma pushed the thoughts of Walsh, Gold, and everything else into that small part of her brain and sighed. She could do this, she told herself. It was just a date. Simple as that. She expected him to call and tell her that he was waiting downstairs. Or maybe he would come up to her room. So she was slightly surprised when the landline rang and it was Granny saying her date was waiting on her downstairs.

After very few hints from Killian about their plans, a new dress and a dig through Ruby's closet for a pair of shoes to match, and even a hairstyle by the waitress who should have been working at Vogue, Emma was ready. Her hair hung in large loose curls that gave that perfect trace of elegance and bedhead. Her sleeveless a-line dress was a black fitted bodice with a black and white leaf patterned skirt that flared out to a hem above her knees. Her shoes were Mary Janes with a simple heel and her bag a white and black clutch.

Growing up in foster homes, she'd never experienced that feeling of descending a staircase for a date with a guy gazing up at her from down below. That was exactly what Killian had created as she walked down the stairs into the hallway where Killian waited with his hand behind his back and a smiling Granny by his side. His pants were a dark black denim but his shirt was a white cotton that he had of course left open a button or two more than necessary. Granny eyed him warily, but her attention was focused on the digital camera she was holding and clicking photos every few moments as the two greeted each other and Killian even provided her with a wrist corsage of a single rose bud and a white ribbon. She furrowed her brow at the gesture, as nobody had ever done that before.

"It took quite a while to convince you to come out with me on a date," he said. "I thought we should do it up right."

"You didn't get a limo did you? We're not going to some high school dance in a gym, are we?"

He chuckled. "You carriage tonight is my jeep. Sorry, I didn't quite go all the way out on this." Offering her his arm, he weaved them out through the side door to the cries of Granny's yelling about curfews and not letting people in after hours. "But you might have a few flashbacks of high school."

The night had already cooled from their earlier adventure, but Emma didn't notice as he stopped them a few feet from the jeep. Lowering his hand to hers, he twirled her around as though they were dancing and smiled broadly at her nervous titter.

"You look stunning."

"I didn't know what to wear since you wouldn't tell me where we were going," she said. "Will you tell me now?"

"I've put some thought into this," he said nervously. "All week."

"You only asked me out at midnight," she reminded him. "It's not that long to plan."

"I've been thinking about spending an evening with you since we met, can't blame a guy for daydreaming." The confidence was back, a wink accompanying it.

Emma's laughter boiled over when she realized that Killian was not trying to impress her with grandeur on their date, but rather a simplistic version of one that was sweet and actually romantic. He took her first to the town's arcade where they were the oldest people there by more than a decade. His attempts to impress her included a high score in a ball toss game and her winning the digital dance off. A little bit later they found themselves at the town's movie theater where only one movie was playing.

"You haven't seen it have you?" he asked, almost in a panic as he realized that this plan might have gone awry. "We could go rent something or switch to…"

"I haven't seen it," she told him, not mentioning that she rarely went to the movie theater anyway. He was so eager that she was easily amused. From his questions about the temperature while they were standing in line for tickets to his insistence that she pick out anything she wanted from the overpriced concession stand. He actually scoffed when she got a small popcorn and a water, loading his own pockets with Junior Mints, Twizzlers, and getting a second bag of popcorn and a loaded nachos and cheese. She wasn't sure how he was going to carry it all with one hand and two very large sodas, but with her help he managed.

The movie was not that interesting or entertaining, but she had to admit that she was enjoying sitting in the darkened theater with him. He'd picked two seats in the back and spent the next 90 minutes coaxing her to eat more candy and sharing sugar laced kisses during the parts where no one was paying attention.

"Do you even know what the movie was about?" she asked as the braved the night air to run back to the jeep. The wind was whipping up and rain was threatening to fall.

"No, but it'll be playing here for a month at least, love. If it's any good, I'll come back." He shot her a wink as he closed her door for her and even waved at her as he ran in front of the window to his side just to make her laugh.

"Where to now?" she asked, eyeing the sky carefully. The big puffy clouds that had seemed so harmless before now obscured the moon and stars. She wondered briefly about Henry, but Robin had said that all but the biggest downpours would be dealt with in the waterproof tents.

"I'm afraid the clouds have cast a damper on my next plan," Killian said, pointing to the backseat where a telescope sat in a box. "I have ordered pizza and was planning on a little stargazing. I'm afraid we wouldn't see much."

She could feel the disappointment radiating off of him and leaned across the console to give his cheek a quick kiss before putting on her seatbelt. "It's okay, maybe another night," she said, her voice a bit tense at the mention of a future date with things up in the air.

"I still have a plan," he said, looking at her with his trademark smirk. "I set it up before I came to pick you up. I just wasn't sure if you…"

"What is it?" she asked after his voice trailed off suspiciously. He tapped out something on his phone and then smiled back at her.

He turned the key in the ignition and the engine roared to life. "Trust me?" he asked, then cringed at the implication. "I didn't mean…"

"Yes," she said. "Let's go."

Fat raindrops began to fall the moment they ran down the dock to his boat, which made Emma laugh even harder. It wasn't that she was getting wet that was so funny, but instead it was the annoyed look on Killian's face that the weather had dared to interfere with his plans. She held his coat over their heads and they boarded with his holding her hand and taking her down the hatch with him. Without saying a word he pulled the laughing woman to him pushing back her damp hair and peppering her jaw and neck with kisses before concentrating on her mouth. Her arms looped around his shoulders, fingers of one hand digging into his muscles as her other hand settled at the back of his head.

"This wasn't my plan, love," he said when they parted for air. "But I do love kissing you."

She didn't trust her voice at that moment and kissed his jaw in a feather light line, dipping down to his neck and running her tongue along where his neck and collarbone met. He pulled gently back on her hair with a low moan rumbling in his chest as crashed his lips back on hers. She was tight against him, feeling every inch of his body against her own.

"We should stop, Emma," he said, sounding as though he didn't fully agree with the sentiment. "Emma…"

She managed to flutter her eyes back open, smirking sheepishly at him as her tongue swept across her bottom lip just as his had done moments before. The purely lustful expression on his face made her grin even bigger and she burrowed herself deeper into his embrace to be rewarded with his groan of protest.

"The pizza delivery boy will be here momentarily, darling. And as much as I would love to take this opportunity to ravish you, I would prefer not to be limited by time or lack of food." He watched as the recognition of the situation crossed her face and her smile returned to a nearly bashful state.

"Your sense of timing kind of sucks, Killian," she said. "I'd rather do without the pizza."

"I'm a buggering idiot," he agreed with a chuckle. "I'll never plan ahead again." He raises his eyes to the sounds of footsteps up above them and smiles. "Be right back, love."

His surprise for her was a bit of a homemade mess in his own estimation. Using the black sheets that David had bought him as a present for his "bachelor pad," Killian had strung them up in storage hold of the boat and laid blankets and pillows out beneath. There in the center was a bottle of wine and two glasses and dotting the black sheets that he had never dared to use on his bed were the plastic glow in the dark stars that you would find at the dollar store. Emma giggled at the starry night he had created for her and ran ahead of him to plop herself down in the middle of it, taking the pizza from him so that he could situation himself next to her.

"When I heard the weather report, it was the best I could do, but it appears the warning was exaggerated. It's not clear, but it has quit raining."

A battery powered lantern provided their dim light, which seemed safer than candles in that environment. She hungrily devoured the pizza, a combination of all her favorite toppings though she had no idea how he might have figured that out. And he joked that there was no elegant way to eat pizza. Now their shared kisses had a spicy Italian tinge to them, as well as the fruitiness of the wine. It was a good combination, she told him when she took care of a bit of sauce that dribbled on his chin.

After their stomachs were full and Killian promised dessert later since his pockets still contained some of the overpriced candy, she leaned back on the plethora of pillows and looked up toward the makeshift sky. "You'll have to point out the constellations to me," she teased. "I don't think I've ever seen this view before."

He reached behind her to flick out the lantern but the glow from the stars still allowed her to see his face. Brows knitted together in concentration of what she called his studious face, she laughed at his random observations of made up constellations and the wild stories behind them. He told her of pirates and princesses who are forever entwined in the star-filled night sky to look down upon mere mortals.

"Do they feel sorry for us?" she asked. "We don't have the beautiful lives they had, according to you."

Resting against the pillows with her using one of the pillows against his thigh, he looked down at her with a quiet and sincere smile. "No, they envy us because we are the ones truly living their stories."

**_If you've made it this far, drop me a line of a review. Hope everyone survives the finale!_**

**_By the way, I can't remember who messaged me about it, but the answer is yes. I did write Zelena as a fashion editor because of Bex's role in Devil Wears Prada. _**


	12. Chapter 12

**_It's Once finale day. I don't know if we're going to survive, but I wanted to give you another chapter early to tide you over. _**

**_My due date is Monday and this little guy is acting a little stubborn so you're still getting daily updates. That obviously won't/can't continue soon, but I've written a little ahead so I'll try to be consistent. _**

_**Thanks so much for the feedback and comments. They have made this highly emotional, pregnant, and crazy woman feel better. **_

The coffee pot at Granny's seemed bottomless, but none was better than the cup that had woken her that morning, its rich scent wafting through the air and tickling her nostrils into wakeful submission. She and Killian had made their way to his bed that night, doing nothing more than simply sleeping curled around each other, but still a more intimate feeling than any one night stand or brief fling that she had experienced. He had told her more about himself, why he hated extra cheese on his pizza because Liam had always wanted it and how he got the thin scar on his cheek. She had told him about one of her last foster homes and how while other kids were taking the SATs she had taken a home pregnancy test in a jail cell. Not all the conversation was depressing. He told her of teaching a survey marine biology course at a local community college. One of his students had dreams of a career in the field until the first day on the boat. He had arrived to find the young man with motion sick patches and a giant life vest. It seemed he did not even know how to swim.

They had talked late into the night and she had finally drifted off with her head tucked safely into his neck and one arm and leg thrown carelessly over him. She had expected him to want more, guilt her into taking it another step. But he didn't. He seemed to be taking particular care that each touch and kiss was nothing more than she was ready to do. The next morning she found herself curled into a ball at his side while he whispered to her to wake up and see what she had been brought. A searing hot cup of coffee with real cream and sugar sat in a mug with an advertisement for some sort of fishing equipment emblazoned on it and a warmed up muffin sat next to it.

"I didn't want to ruin your appetite for breakfast, but I thought they might make getting up easier." He was shirtless beside her, a pair of sweat pants on with socks and his legs crossed at the ankles. Gathering the sheet and blanket around her waist and lap, she sat up and took a long sip of the coffee.

"Much easier," she said before taking another sip.

The coffee might have been a bit stale at Granny's, but Emma lapped it up like a puppy and found herself recognizing the themes of teases between Killian's friends. While they were all complaining about having to go to work the next day, she could hear the affection they had for each other and their careers. This weekly tradition of theirs seemed to have in some cases gone back to high school when some of them would study or cram for tests at these very tables.

Mary Margaret sat across from Emma, her face a bit pale in comparison to the rest who bore the evidence of some color from the sun if not pinkish sunburns. She pushed away Ruby's attempts at more coffee, but the biggest clue that something was the matter was the way she turned positively green at the sight of her husband's milk glass. Emma recognized the signs.

Excusing herself to go to the restroom, Emma was checking her phone messages one more time when the teacher came in the small room and ran a paper towel under some cold water to blot at her forehead. Another trick for nausea that Emma had picked up in jail. The blonde smiled sympathetically at Mary Margaret's reflection in the mirror. "How far along are you?" she asked, shoving the phone back in her pocket.

"10 weeks," the brunette answered and then let her mouth gape as she realized she'd just said that. "We haven't told anyone…"

"I recognize the symptoms," Emma said, again talking to the reflection rather than turning to face her. "And you had them all."

Mary Margaret's thin frame did not indicate her condition, but she still cradled her hands over what would become her distended abdomen. "David and I have been trying for four years. We've done herbs, fertility drugs, and even a round of IVF and nothing took. We've put our names down for adoption. Nothing. And then just after I decide that I'll never be a mom that plus sign showed up on a test."

"Congratulations," Emma said sincerely. "You must be thrilled."

Mary Margaret blotted at her forehead again. "I hear it gets better in the second trimester."

"The morning sickness stops soon. You're certainly a trooper. I couldn't have even thought about being on a boat when I pregnant with Henry." She shot the expectant mom another look and a sort of weird side hug. "So again, congratulations."

Emma promised not tell a soul and exited the tiled room a few moments before the woman to greet the men and women of her breakfast group. She slowed as she walked to the table, taking in the scene. They all looked so normal and happy. Aurora and Ashley were flipping through a newspaper advertisement and talking about shoes for their similarly aged children while their husbands were staring in disbelief at some tall tale that another friend – Jefferson, who hadn't been on the boat trip – was currently spinning. Killian and David were discussing the finer points of a recap of a soccer match. Ruby was flirting shamelessly with Victor, her head thrown back in a laugh that seemed much bigger than her thin frame or the moment required.

Her seat was still empty, pulled close to Killian and his arm was still resting on the back of it in anticipation of her return. She wondered if she could ever have this life, this comfortable and uncomplicated, with a boyfriend and more friends than she could even imagine. What would it be like to have friends who popped in because they just wanted to hang out for a while? What would it be like to go to little league games as a group or see Henry not only have the team's coach but a group of male friends who would school him on the techniques of whatever sport he wanted to play? She could see Henry walking home from school in a place like this? Would his first date be to the only movie theater in town? Would he go the prom with a girl whose parents joined her in snapping photos and handing out warnings about curfews and everyone in town watching what they were doing? She imagined for a moment every celebratory moment in his life being held over a milkshake and a grilled cheese at that very diner, Granny having it ready because she already knew.

Killian was the first to see her standing there and gave her a look that said he knew she needed a moment to process whatever was going on in her head. He waved her over and she joined him, sliding into that chair next to him and letting his arm move from the back of her chair to her shoulders.

Henry was not due back until just after lunch and according to his latest text messages he was fine. The rain shower had been a brief one that allowed the kids to swap ghost stories in the large sized tents. She asked what that had to do with the environmental theme of the camp and he said he was sure that ghosts recycled.

When the group dispersed, Killian stood in the upstairs hallway as though he did not feel he even had the right to come into her room. He had a few times before with breakfast so she wasn't sure why he felt shy about it now.

"I'm not bringing you anything now," he said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "And you didn't invite me."

She didn't laugh that his comment was a bit old fashioned, but instead she stood up on her tiptoes with her hand behind his neck to pull him down to kiss her. He obliged and found her mouth open under his warmly. Mouths fused, she walked backwards into the room and kicked shut the door behind him.

"Quite an invitation," he said against her mouth. "I can't say no to that."

"Silly." She pushed him into the chair closest to them, his stumbled step backward made her almost giggle. Straddling him, she kept up her end of their kiss, her tongue meeting his and both of their sighs and moans mingling as she let her hands begin to pull at the fabric of his clothes. Every cell in her body felt as though it was humming as melted against him.

He pushed her back a little, pushing up on the hem of shirt with his hand as she tugged it over her head. "You know, love," he said, the glint of his mischievousness evident in his eyes, "I have pictured you in this position before. Back when Mary Margaret thought you were a stripper."

She laughed, shimmying her shoulders before she placed her hands on his arms. "You thought that I was going to give you a lap dance?"

"A man could hope," he teased. "A man can always hope." His hand gripped her hip.

She shifted her hips slightly and smiled at his reaction to the small movement. "I'm a little out of practice on my dance moves."

"A damn shame," Killian teased back, his mouth chasing hers as she moved her head away from him. "I'd bet you have a natural talent."

She had a quip on the edge of her tongue and her fingers were already busily seeking this shirt when the knock at the door echoed through the small room. Her hope that she had imagined it was dashed when his disappointed sigh and gaze met her own. She stretched and reached for her top, pulling it over her head and blushing as she looked at the door with an apology sputtering out.

She opened it quickly, not bothering to look out the peep hole at all. The woman on the other side was not at all who she expected to see. The woman was dressed impeccably, even her hair had no strands out of place and her eyes showed no indication of the crying that most in her situation would do normally.

"Belle," Emma said, finding her tone a little flat with the wife of the man who had been infiltrating various areas of her life and her son's life. "You usually call first."

The woman's nervous smile faded quickly. "I assumed you might screen," she said. Her right foot slid forward in a pair of lemon yellow pumps that matched the yellow of her belt around a black and white polka dot dress. She stepped back again. "I need to talk to you, Emma. I know that you probably don't want to talk to me or my husband, but I think…"

Emma's hesitation was momentary and she only vaguely considered the woman's reaction to finding Killian in her room. "You can come in," she said, less than magnanimously. "Henry's not here yet."

The woman stepped in and drew a sharp breath at the sight of Killian struggling to his feet. "I just wanted to talk to you first," she said. "It's important."

Considering this and the way the woman's wary gaze was fixed on Killian, Emma paused and looked at the man who seemed just as uncertain as to what to do. "I think I would prefer if Killian stayed," she admitted, looking between them to see if this might be accepted.

Belle exhaled harshly, her awkward stance in the middle of the room a bit of a symbol of the situation. She twisted the wedding band on her left ring finger, letting her eyes drop to it before she nodded her head gently. "I had planned to seek you out too, Mr. Jones. This has to do with you too."

His color drained from his face as he pulled out two chairs from the round table in Emma's room and gestured. "Maybe we should all sit down," he said. "It might be more comfortable."

When Belle did not immediately speak, Emma apologized for no tea or coffee and Killian offered to gather some. However, Belle shook her head and placed her hands flat on the table. Her eyes cast down at them as though she had never seen them before in her life. "My husband is dying, Emma. You and I have had this conversation before, but it's different now. It's more serious. The doctors have said his heart is too weak to even do surgery to help prevent another heart attack. We knew this was coming, but still it is a shock to see it and accept it."

No apology was given, no condolences. Emma just waited, agreeing only that they had had this very conversation before.

"He's never been a very emotional man," she continued, sounding indefinably emotionless herself. "When his son died, I was calling a priest about having a mass in his honor and checking on the prices of flights to go to the funeral. Do you know who my husband called? His lawyer and his financial advisors about making sure that you, Emma, weren't going to be able to claim any of his company." She pursed her lips as though she was having second thoughts about this. "You weren't thinking like that, were you? You were thinking how to tell your little boy about his father."

"Belle," Emma said softly. "Why are you here?"

She cleared her throat. "The doctors came to talk to him yesterday. They told him that his condition wasn't going to get better. They asked him about final wishes. They asked him about calling in family and friends. Do you know that he wanted to see his lawyer again? He wanted to make sure certain things were taken care of immediately."

Emma could not imagine making such a request herself, but she could picture that from the man in question. She just shook her head though and watched as Killian's expression hardened, perhaps thinking of Milah. He had said that Gold's reaction to his wife's death could only be described as clinical.

"That damn lawyer met with him for five hours yesterday. Sat by his bedside and talked about God knows what instead of comforting him. Then the man leaves the room and tells me he'll bill me for the time. Can you imagine? My husband is dying. He hadn't so much as talked to me yet, but he spent five hours with a lawyer." She shook her head in her own disbelief. "I marched in there and told him that I wasn't going to be treated like that. I deserve better. He didn't deny that. Who could?" Reaching into her vintage Chanel purse, the woman pulled out an envelope. Her movements were deliberate, pulling the papers out and then staring at them as though she had not seen them before.

Killian looked at her with a bit softer of an expression. He must have been just as curious as Emma regarding the contents because he broke the silence first. "What are those, Mrs. Gold?"

"About 14 years ago, my husband bought a great deal of the land and property in Storybrooke. He'd been investing and owned things before that, but he wasn't anywhere near as successful as he is today. Not financially, I mean. He had been searching for an investor, a partner maybe. My father had contributed a little. That's how we met. People have assumed that I came with some huge dowry or something, some bribe to make a man that age marry me. Or that I must have been promised something." She smiled at Emma with that same sad smile she had the day at the Golds' house. "I didn't know, Emma. I didn't know about the money. I thought he'd always had it. I thought it was family money or something. It didn't matter to me. Not a bit. See, I grew up with money. I grew up with a father who could buy anything except happiness." She reached back into her purse and pulled out a tissue. Dabbing at her eyes, she sighed.

"Belle, I'm not following," Emma said, her eyes darting to Killian who looked, if it was possible, paler than before. She wanted to reach out to him, tell him things were okay. But his eyes were transfixed on the half folded papers obscured in Belle's hands. "Belle?"

"My father wasn't interested in what he called the paltry investments of a man too cowardly to play with the big guys in the stock market. So he gave my husband very little. He wasn't the only one. Nobody took him seriously. They thought he was new money and not very good at it." She unfolded the papers and ran a hand over them to smooth out the creases. "They may have been right. See, my husband was a flashy kind of guy. He liked to buy things to show people he had money. He wanted them to see that they were wrong and that he was successful."

Emma nodded, remembering what Neal had said about his father being into appearances. She remembered what Killian had said about the man not caring about anything other than earning the admiration and respect of others rather than friendship and love.

"We married pretty quickly," Belle said, her tone changing and growing wistful. "I know what people thought. They assumed I was pregnant. They thought it was some business transaction. It wasn't. I love my husband. It's hard to believe but I do. I always thought…It doesn't matter what I always thought. I wanted him to be the man I knew he could be. I thought he was becoming that. I thought that his offering to pay for Henry's tuition and the money he was putting into your business, Emma, was evidence that he wanted to help. I…"

"Belle," Emma said gently. The woman did not respond so Emma reached for the papers. The dark haired woman's eyes shot up quickly and she yanked it back as though she had not planned to reveal them at all. "Just tell me."

"We got married on that yacht he used to own," the woman said, a bitterness seeping through. She looked at Killian. "You know the one. The one that didn't even fit at the damn dock because it was too big so he had something built for it. The one that people thought you stole."

Killian nodded his head and Emma waited for him to correct her. He didn't.

"I know you didn't steal it, Killian. I know. You didn't have anything to do with it. My husband did it. That's how he got the money to expand his business and control everyone in this town practically. Granny even pays rent on this place. To owe my husband is to be his slave. He doesn't do things to help people. He helps himself." She shook her head sadly. "People have died. People have lost everything because my husband is a greedy bastard. I think I knew that early on. I saw how he was with Kathryn who just wanted money to go to law school. I saw how he was with Zelena. Did you know that he actually checked to see if he was that woman's father? He wasn't. I saw the test results. So he manipulated her too. Michael doesn't own the garage. My husband does. He's made Michael put tracking devices on people's cars."

Emma felt better about the fact that her car had been fixed outside of the town by Leroy. But her head was spinning. She realized that a fact that Belle was glossing over was Liam, Killian's brother. He had been on the yacht when it had exploded. The pain in Killian's eyes was palpable.

"Belle, can you prove any of this?" Emma asked, her eyes cast toward the papers.

The woman nodded and dropped the papers almost dramatically in the center of the table. "I have the insurance paperwork. I have a report by someone named Graham that showed it was clearly arson and then his revised report that said the cause was undetermined. And I have the correspondence between my husband and a lawyer where he wanted to set Killian up to make it look like it was his fault. Only that didn't work." She shook her head again, hands drawing back as though the pages burnt her. "He's a hoarder, Emma. He kept everything. I don't know what I'll find if I keep looking. I don't know if I want…" She swallowed hard, her tears falling without sobs. "I don't want to know these things. You see, my husband is dying. I can't change that. But along with him is going the faith that I had that he was doing the right thing by people. I thought my husband had a good heart. Not pumping his blood. I thought he had a good one that was capable of love. I'm losing my husband twice."

***AAA***

Emma was still staring at the papers when Killian went to the door to let David into the room. The man hugged his friend and looked at Emma with a concerned expression as he uninvitedly took the seat across from her. In typical law enforcement fashion, he swiveled the chair around and leaned folded his arms parallel to the back of the chair.

"Sounded pretty serious on the phone," he said, prodding Emma to speak to him. He watched her with the careful observation of a trained professional and kept his ear out for Killian who was pacing off to his left. "It's okay. Just tell me."

Emma's dark lashes fluttered onto what felt like very warm cheeks. "I don't know where to start."

Killian lunged at the table, pulling the papers out of her hands as though they might hurt her in some way. "You shouldn't have to deal with this," he said. "It shouldn't be on you to decide what to do with this bastard's life."

David leaned himself back and looked first at Killian and then at Emma. "Can I ask a question? Why am I here? Am I here as a friend or as the sheriff?"

"Both," Emma whispered. "I need you here as both right now."

"A knowledgeable friend?" Killian said, the words not bringing the levity to the situation that he needed and wanted. "Belle Gold was here."

In broken sentences and with a few questions thrown in from David, Emma and Killian explained the tale to the sheriff. David's eyes misted over at the discussion of how Liam was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. His jaw and hands clenched when he heard Emma read in a trembling voice about the plan to frame Killian for the explosion on the yacht.

David leaned forward again, his spine curved so that he could rest his chin along the nest created by his folded arms on the back of the chair. He had gone into work from their earlier breakfast, the leather straps of his shoulder holster shining. "That's a lot of evidence," David said of the paperwork that now sat splayed out on the surface of the table. Three sets of eyes stared at the display without touching it, willing it to give them the answers. "And if it turns out to be legit, it could be powerful in court. He'd get convicted and sent away. No doubt. But…the man is dying. I know that is small consolation though."

"He probably wouldn't survive until there was a trial," Emma said softly.

"No, he wouldn't," David said just as quietly. "So maybe we don't want to go that route. Maybe, we want to look at this another way."

**_If you've made it this far, drop me a line of a review. Hope everyone survives the finale!_**


	13. Chapter 13

**_A/N: So the season finale did me in and I'm going to go ahead and post this tonight. The baby seemed to enjoy it too since he was quite active during the second hour. Anyway…_**

**_I probably won't get a chance to update tomorrow because I will be away from the computer for a test at the doctor's and some spicy food eating, and if the baby has not already come, it is possible we may be looking at inducing Tuesday. So that being said I tried not to leave you with a cliffhanger. So pour yourself some rum or goat's milk and have a glass for me as you read this chapter._**

**_See you soon!_**

David told her that his wife was much more of the hugger in the family than he was, but he still enveloped Emma in a hug and told her that no matter what decision she made it would be for the best. Dangling his phone in his hand, he said he needed to take a few minutes outside and would leave them to discuss the options. He squeezed Killian's shoulder and nodded before slipping out the door and shutting it behind him.

"Well this just sucks," Emma said, toppling backwards onto the bed. "I mean no matter what I decide at this point…"

"You don't have to do this alone, Emma," Killian told her his own face looking more haggard than the moments before Belle had arrived. "I will be there for you."

She hugged one of the ruffled throw pillows to her chest. "I know," she said with a funny sounding laugh. "That's the crazy thing. I know you're here for me. Nobody's ever here for me, but I trust that you will be. I don't even know how to handle that, but I can't think about it because I have to decide whether or not a man is going to jail or not. I'm not usually the one who gets to make those decisions. I'm the one you call after the decision has been made."

He sat down on the bed, his feet still on the floor and giving her only a profile view of him. "What would you tell your client in this situation?"

She sighed. "That sometimes justice doesn't come like we expect or want. That sometimes we have to take what we can get."

He looked at the door as though David was still standing there. "I'm surprised by him. David always plays by the rules. We joke that Mary Margaret is straight laced and a do gooder, but David's a bloody stickler. He won't even jaywalk. And yet he suggested that we blackmail the king of ball manipulation. Are we that daft that we think it could work?"

"It's a numbers game," Emma said. "If he lives, then jail or prison would be the right solution. But he's at death's door. So we have to take our own justice." She looked at him. "He was your brother. You have a say in this. You could ask for something."

He'd been staring at a run in the fabric of the rug, his eyes tracing the widening and narrowing gap. "I don't know that there is anything that I want from that man other than the assurance you and your boy are left alone." He shrugged. "Nothing he can do would bring my brother back to me."

"No," she said, sitting up and closer to him. "But we can extract a little of our own justice."

***AA***

Henry flew into his mother's arms like he had been gone for a week, his laugh echoing down the hall as David and Killian looked on without trying to be too obvious that the scene was quite moving. Emma held him tighter than she meant and when he squirmed to get away from her, she reminded herself that her son was practically a teenager and she should be thankful for those moments when she did act like her little boy.

She ran her hand back over his head, pushing the shaggy hair out of his eyes and looking at him critically. He was certainly the spitting image of Neal from his eyes to the turn of his nose. He'd gained her astute observations skills though and looked upon her with a depth of understanding that was beyond his years.

"We're not leaving now, are we?" Henry asked quietly. He had been part of more than his fair share of late night decisions for fresh starts. She had dragged him out of bed and told him to pack or packed for him a few times. He'd wondered what became of best friends who he no longer saw. He had cried one year convinced that Santa would not find them when they lived in a motel after a fight she had with a boss.

"No," she said, kissing his forehead reassuringly. "But I do have a few things I need to do. I wanted to give you some options."

She had done this with him since an early age. Choices were the key to their relationship. Even as a toddler, she had let him choose which snack or game. As he grew older she would hand him a map and tell him to choose a city. He could watch that movie tonight, but that meant getting up an hour early for homework. The new shoes he wanted were expensive so that meant that he did not get the new jeans he wanted too. It was a chance to treat him as an equal in their lives.

"I like it here," he said in a low voice so that the two men standing near them did not hear.

"I'm going to be talking to Elsa and Anna for a while on Skype," she said, "and it's not really a conversation for you right now. So David and Mary Margaret invited you to come over and watch some movies or do a little fishing in the creek behind their house. Granny and Ruby said you could hang out downstairs in the diner. Or if you want, we can go down to the pharmacy and see if any of the new comic books are in and you could hang out in your room and read those."

She saw the look of interest on his face, but he also seemed suspicious. "Is my grandfather okay?" he asked. "Why is he not on the list of options?"

"He's resting," Emma said, not really lying about the situation. "He's still in the hospital."

The boy looked over his shoulder at the two men standing near his mother's door. "And Killian?"

"I was thinking you and I could do something along with your mother this evening, lad," Killian said, his voice a bit hoarse from the discussions and emotions that had been a part of their early afternoon and late morning.

Emma gave one quick nod and placed both hands on Henry's shoulders. "He's going to talk to Anna and Elsa with me, okay? We'll do something later."

"I'd like to go to Mrs. Nolan's house," Henry said after a brief pause. "That sounds fun."

David smiled welcomingly and said he and his wife would be thrilled to have the boy with them. "Maybe we can stop by the pharmacy on the way and pick out some comic books. It's been a while since I read any so you could help get me up to date. Is Batman still Clark Kent?"

"Bruce Wayne," Henry said as the two descended the stairs, shooting his mother and incredulous look that said I can't believe this guy.

The outside door banged shut before Emma looked away from the staircase, her eyes brimming with tears again. "I hate this," she said. "How is he going to ever understand what kind of man his grandfather is?"

"I don't know," Killian answered honestly, walking back into her room. The air seemed lighter without the voices of the others to contend with, but he still felt a thick pressure forming. It reminded him of the air before a storm that he was powerless to prevent.

She followed him back in the room, kicking her shoes off and standing with her toes curled into the thread bare rug that framed the bed. "You know," she said, glancing at the clock that said they had only a few minutes before they were supposed to connect with her business partners. "I expected this to be the most boring trip I ever took. I thought I'd be bored all day waiting on Henry. I thought I'd be itching to get back to work and that I'd drive so fast getting out of town that I'd probably get a speeding ticket."

"I don't think anyone would have predicted this," he said, wrapping his arms around her from behind. Her back rested on his chest and he waited while she took a breath. "But I wasn't lying when I said you are worth any challenge, Emma. This day has brought us some awful surprises, but it has also meant me standing or sitting next to you and seeing how beautifully strong you really are in all of this."

"You're being strong too," she said quietly. "It can't be easy for you to hear that it wasn't an accident that killed your brother."

His body tensed as he swallowed hard, the stubble of his face rubbing against her smooth skin. "Knowing the reason doesn't bring my brother back, but it takes away some of the guilt I've felt all these years. When I thought it was an accident, I blamed myself for my brother believing I had stolen that yacht. He was always trying to take care of me, clean up the messes I made in my life. And this was just another one to him."

She turned in his arms to face him, running a hand over the side of his face and feeling the warmth of his head tilting into her touch. "You were never at fault," she told him. "Never. This man has been manipulating everyone's lives to give himself his own happy ending. We're going to stop it."

"I'd hate to get in your way, love," he said. "You are a tough lass and even more so when someone dares threaten your son."

He kissed her firmly, not taking his time to stoke the fire that seemed to exist between them. It was more of a gesture to signal their agreement, an acceptance of their decision. He did not ask her if she was sure, having seen her eyes when David laid out his idea. She was sure, ready, and prepared for the actions they would have to take.

The laptop on the table rang like a phone and Emma pulled away. Despite the thick stack of papers that they had already e-mailed to her partners – thanks to Ruby and an old fashioned scanner in the diner's office – Emma smiled at him ruefully and pulled him along with her over to the computer and the two chairs they had sat in front of it. "Ready to meet my friends?" she asked. "No matter what's going on with all this, I can promise they are going to judge you now."

He chuckled and squared off his shoulders. "Do I look okay? Nothing too glaring?"

"Stunning," she replied, quickly kissing his cheek before clicking accept on the screen. The image of her two friends filled the screen and they smiled back at Emma and Killian. "Hi guys!"

Anna was holding her baby and waving his tiny fist toward the camera. "Say hi to Auntie Emma," she sing songed, then looked apologetically toward them. "Kristof had to work. It's a hot day so business is booming. He can't really scoop and hold a baby at the same time."

"It's fine," Emma said. "I'm glad to see him. He's grown even in the last week."

Elsa pushed back her blonde hair over her shoulders and cleared her throat, a sign that she was all about the business at hand at the moment. Then that familiar flash in her eyes was obvious. "So this must be Killian," she said, eyes wide and knowing as Anna squinted at the screen like she hadn't seen the man. "Am I right?"

"Aye," Killian said, offering a little wave that bordered between a salute and a tip of the hat if he had been wearing one. "Lovely to meet the two of you. Emma speaks of you often."

Elsa's cheeks puffed with the grin she'd tried to suppress while Anna does an even worse job suppressing her giggle. "Alright guys, introductions are over," Emma said after pointing out to Killian which sister is which though it is pretty obvious to him. "We need to make a decision here."

Elsa had clearly done her research. She knew which clients were legitimate and had woken up a friend of Will's who was in the know on how to price businesses for sale. "Emma, I think we are pretty screwed if we sell to an outsider," she admitted. "Our best hope is that another bail firm wants to buy us out. Even then we're probably looking at change on the dollar. It's not good."

Emma kept her face stoic, but looked down at the paper in front of her. "Ladies, I really just need to know if you guys want to sell. I think I have a buyer lined up for us."

"Where did you find an idiot dumb enough to buy a business that isn't doing that well without interference from some stalker?" Elsa demanded, her voice rising and threatening the peacefully sleeping baby. Anna shot her a look and swiveled her chair to shield the baby against his aunt's loud question.

"Let's just say I know how to make a deal," Emma said, hearing Killian suppress a laugh of his own. "I have a little power in this situation now."

***AAA***

Almost three hours and several e-mails, Skype sessions, and using an ancient fax machine later, Belle met Killian and Emma in the lobby of the hospital, again looking as though she was ready to walk on a runway rather than visit her dying husband. She smiled tentatively at both of them, her eyes darting to the doorway as if she expected a SWAT team to descend at any moment. She gave a nervous laugh as she nodded to them. "I guess I've been worried," she said. "I kept expecting the cops to show up any moment and take him away."

"He wouldn't live long enough to be punished," Emma pointed out, feeling a bit callous to say that in front of the woman who was married to the man they were trying to take down. "And I'm not sure there is any justice in that." She didn't repeat what Killian had said about it being bad form to fight invalids.

"What are you going to do?" Belle asked. "He may not be able to chase you around a room, but his mind is working fine. It's just his heart…"

"That's good," Emma said. "I need his mind to work." Emma had almost always left the negotiating and dealing to Elsa who was much more intimidating in her designer pantsuit – a present from her Aunt Ingrid – than Emma was in skinny jeans and a top. But Emma knew deep down that she had the upper hand even if her outfit didn't scream corporate takeover. Her jeans hugged her curves and she had paired them with a soft button down shirt in a royal blue that made her blonde hair almost golden. She had not even bothered with a pair of higher heels, as her height would not be an intimidation factor with the man in a hospital bed. Instead she settled on a pair of ballet flats that added a touch of elegance to her outfit that sneakers would not have managed.

Belle looked even more nervous as she followed the two toward the elevator and up to the next floor. They found themselves in a semicircle around his bed, Killian on one side and Belle on the other as Emma stood at the foot of it. She looked to the two of them quickly and nodded, stating her husband's name twice before he opened his eyes with a look of surprise at who was standing there.

"You didn't bring Henry?" he asked, his voice thick from his nap. "I thought…"

"You don't want Henry here for this," Emma said firmly. "That boy thinks you are a grouchy but caring man as his grandfather. Right now I don't want him to know who you really are or how you can't even be bothered to know him. He doesn't need to think of himself as a pawn in your sick game."

If she expected him to break down and cry over the idea that his grandson was not enamored with him, she would have been wrong. His dismissive and bored expression was not one that indicated any love for anyone but himself. "Ms. Swan," he said flatly. "I don't have the energy for lectures or interventions. It's rather a waste of time for someone in the twilight of his life."

"I'm not here to lecture you," Emma said. "I'm here to make a deal with you. You're right though. You don't have much time for things so I'll speed it along. See I know about you. I know things you have done. I know about Walsh, Kathryn and Zelena. I also know about the yacht that you destroyed for the insurance money. And I bet if I did a little more digging I'd find that you somehow messed with the brakes on your late wife's car and caused the injuries to your son and Killian, as well as her death. But you see, while it would be fun to see you handcuffed to your bed in an orange jumpsuit, it wouldn't be wholly satisfying."

There was a momentary surprise that registered on his face, a question about her intentions, and a brief survey of his memory to see if he had covered his tracks well enough. Like his wife, he looked to the door to see if law enforcement was closing in on him. "Very well," he said, not acknowledging if her information was correct, "what sort of deal do you think we can make?"

"You're going to buy my company for a nice little sum," she said plainly. "You've been investing in it with fake clients and now you're going to buy it outright. I have the paperwork here, drawn up by Kathryn. You see there is a little form in there for you to sign that absolves her of any student loan debt to you. She's paid her price several times over."

"And?" he asked. "Surely that can't be all."

"You're going to sell the properties I have listed at a fair price to some of the citizens of this town," she continued. "Starting with Mrs. Lucas, Jefferson, Ashley and Thomas, Philip and Aurora, Graham, Dr. Whale, and more. You're also going to sign over the money you had loaned the mayor for infrastructure that the town is still paying off. I think that would be a good way to start paying off your debt to society."

"So your plan is to ruin me financially?" he asked. "You realize that if you do that, your son gets nothing."

"Oh but I'm not done," Emma said. "You are going to rewrite your will in a few minutes. One half of everything is going to Belle, your lovely wife. Another portion will go into trust while we sort through how many people you have hurt. It will be used to make their lives right again."

"And Henry?"

"You will leave Henry the pawn shop. He can decide what he wants to do with it and its contents. Additionally, you will leave him whatever photos, videos or mementos you have of Neal. That's only fair."

"And if I don't agree to any of this?" He asked. "If you really had the evidence, you'd have me locked up."

"You don't have much of a choice," Emma said. "You see, people like your lawyers, advisors, and the like are drawn to smart, rich, powerful types. You're none of those. You see, we can settle this now. Or you can die soon and we'll hold it all up in court for years to come. Killian can ask for restitution for your attempts to frame him and your part in his brother's death. I can request it for the pain and suffering of forcing Walsh into my life. Henry can…"

"And what, other than a few painful days of freedom do I get out this?" He smirked at her, imagining that he was still in charge. "I'd never make a deal without a benefit. Surely you all must know this." It was his mistake to look at Belle, who no longer made eye contact with her husband. She was the one who patted his bed.

"Dear," she said, holding her chin up almost unnaturally high. "The time for making deals is done. You're going to make things right now."

"And I suppose you'll have Henry come in and tell me how I've made a mess on things next."

"No," said Emma. "You're going to see your grandson with supervision. You are going to get to die as a hero in his eyes because you are going to fix things that you have screwed up. He's going to get the chance to respect you and not your power or your influence. But I swear to you. If you so much as say one wrong word, I will yank him out of here and you'll never see him again."

"Why?" he asked, his voice weaker now that he was resigned. "Why let me see him at all?"

"Because to him," Emma explained, "you are family. And family deserves a second chance. To us," she pointed first at herself and then Killian, "you are the scum of the earth. Your second chance is that your grandson is going to go on after your death believing that you were not the bad guy after all."

***AAA***

Killian was a few minutes behind Emma, as they had discussed he would be, but quickly found her and wrapped his arms around her. Standing there just outside the glass doors to the hospital, he held her for a few moments and then whispered that perhaps she would like to go collect her son.

"Henry's probably waiting on us," he said to her tired but eager face. "I know he'll feel better to see you."

"I feel like I'm lying to him," she said, her voice catching. "That man…"

"That man is power hungry and made horrible decisions to either gain or keep the power he wanted so badly. But you and I both know that there must have been some good in him. That good passed on to Neal, who despite being a wanker in a game of cards, was a good man too. That wasn't all his mother's doing. It was a joint effort. And that same goodness was passed on to your boy, who is smart as they come and enamored with his beautiful mother. Quite protective of her too, I might add."

"And doesn't he have a right to know…"

"Aye, he does and someday he probably will know, but right now give him this chance. Not for that man lying in that bed upstairs, but for himself. Give him a chance to create his own opinion and memories of his family here. Gold probably can't hide the truth of himself for very long, so he will probably reveal his own nature to Henry in some small way." Killian's hand was wound in the blonde of her ponytail, holding the curls aloft in the sunlight that seemed so harsh after the cloud covered night. "It is not my place to say, love, but I think it might be the kinder thing to let Henry form his own opinion of his grandfather. I sometimes wish someone had let me do that with my father."

She blinked, seeing that pain in his face that was usually so hidden. "Tell me about him," she whispered, realizing it was one of those rare moments that she could stand for him rather than the other way around.

"I was only a little younger than Henry," he said, moving them out of the center of the traffic of the sidewalk toward where his jeep was parked. "We had moved here and anyone could tell that he was getting restless. My mother called them business trips, but she sat up all night and watched for him, worried over him. I heard my brother talking to her about these trips, claiming to have found receipts for dinner and other things I later learned about." He smiled sadly, his mouth pausing to meet the hand she had extended to swipe at a tear he did not know he had shed.

"What happened to him?" she asked, prodding softly.

"My father got himself in more than a bit of trouble, found himself on the wrong side of the law as it were. He was out with me and my brother one day and promised to take us for a little sailing trip the next. However, my mother had called the authorities. He ran and never looked back."

"Did he say goodbye to you?" she asked. It was a regret from her own childhood of frequently changing homes that many of the times she had learned of the changes were while she was at school. She was met with a social worker and a bag. There were very few times she ever said goodbye.

"No," Killian said. "Liam and my mother were better prepared for it. They knew the man he was and told me. They told me of his past and of his love for gambling, women, and money. Those stories took over for the memories that I had formed. I no longer remember a father who played games with me or took me out for ice cream. I remember the philandering git who managed to make a mess of our lives and made my mother cry too many times to count. My mother was a lovely woman, so kind, sweet, and smarter than most gave her credit for being. She'd do anything for you if she thought you were in need, absolutely anything. She would have loved you. She would have thought you were brilliant and amazing and that I was a lucky man for you even talking to me."

"What happened to your mother?"

His face twisted into a painful expression before his breathing steadied. "She died a few years later. There was a medical reason for it. Some long and Latin name that essentially meant she died of a broken heart. For she did truly love my father and had hoped to reform him and change him, but she didn't. She couldn't."

"And your father?" she asked.

"He did time in a prison some place and showed up again at Liam's graduation. My brother threw him out, told him that we had made it in life without his help or interference. I didn't talk to him."

"I'm sorry, Killian," she said, hugging him to her like she did Henry when he had a bad dream or a kid picked on him at school. "I'm sorry. You deserved better. You still do."

He let himself be taken in by her hug, felt the sensation of her comforting him. "He looked at me, begged me to talk to him. I couldn't though. I couldn't find it in me to go against my brother or my mother. Liam hated him. He used to talk about it when we were in school that he was going to find him someday and make him pay for all the things our mother went through because of his actions. He told me that all those memories of our father that I used to have weren't real because my father was a selfish bastard who did those things for some other gain, not because he loved or cared about me."

Emma saw the light in Killian's eyes, a muted glow that reminded her why he had told her this story. Henry's memories of his grandfather did not have to include all the horrible things. There was still a chance for Henry to know the man underneath the bad choices and greed. People are often their truer selves when facing impending death. Perhaps Henry was better off knowing that grandfather than the tainted picture Emma could paint.

"Let's go get Henry," she said, her voice almost whispering. "I want to see my son. And didn't you promise us an outing?"

***AAA***

Henry had not seen the older section of town where the houses were more traditional and larger plots of land. It seemed to him to be a quiet area and he liked how everything appeared to be waiting for something, holding its breath for something special. Killian offered a little history on the cove and told how some of the wealthier men of the time had built those houses and how most had widows' walks and even turrets like castles.

Emma was a bit surprised that her son was so interested in architecture and history. Many of the houses had their own private docks and trees obscured the view of some of them from the road. She was not sure why they were on such a little drive, but the sound of Killian's voice and her son's laughter were enough to keep her happy and calm. When she saw two children on their bikes waving at them, she had to admit that they probably appeared to be a family out for a Sunday drive, normal and carefree.

Killian turned the steering wheel sharply and veered down a gravel driveway that led to one of those obscured houses. The yard was overgrown in spots and the bushes needed trimming badly, but she could not help staring at the two story house in front of her. Its clapboard siding was weathered and the shutters faded in the sun and salt air. The trim needed a fresh coat of paint and an attic window had been boarded over rather than repaired. It sat higher on the cliff than the others down the road and probably offered a terrific view of the water, Emma decided as Killian slowed the car and yet offered no explanation for the detour.

"It needs some work," she said, eyeing him and his far off expression. "Whose is it?" She expected him to say Gold. Even in the week that she had been there, that was the usual answer.

"That's a complicated question to answer, love," Killian said with a smile as he cut the engine. "You see, it used to belong to Regina's mother, Cora. She lived here for a while until she had a bigger home built in town. Mr. Gold wanted it quite badly, but she never sold it to him. Instead she left it to her daughter."

"So Regina owns it?" Emma asked, following him out of the jeep and watching with one eye as Henry left the conversation to run up on the porch and look through the dust covered windows. "What's she going to do with it? I saw her home. It's beautiful."

"Aye, the mayor has quite a beauty of a home. But no, she no longer wanted this place either. I made her an offer a few weeks ago. Thought it might be time to settle into a place that wasn't so temperamental, if it were, to the whims of Mother Nature. It's larger than I need, but I like the idea of the challenge of fixing it up and making it a home."

"You're going to live here," Emma said, the strong scent of the ocean welcoming her as she followed her son onto the porch. "Wow. You really are more domestic than you let on, Killian. A home. You can cook."

He shrugged off the compliment. "I may not have the family, Swan, but I am a family man at heart."

Turning the key in the lock, he let them inside and delighted in their inquisitiveness about the place. Henry's was more obvious as he ran from room to room with shouts about his discoveries. Emma was quieter, but he could read her still. She would run her hand over the smooth wood of the banister and smile at him with knowing eyes. She trailed a finger along the counter of the kitchen and said something about his cooking ambitions, which made him laugh.

"You must have worked hard for this," she said as she found him staring out one of the windows thoughtfully. "You should be proud."

"You look a little nervous, Emma," he said, using their moment alone to wrap his arms around her waist and pull her back to his chest again to let her enjoy the view of the blue water and breaking whitecaps below. "Lovely."

"Why would I be nervous?" she asked. "It's a perfect home for you. I mean once you clean it up a bit."

His lips grazed a spot on her neck and he thrilled in the shiver that she did not hide. "You thought I was going to ask you to move in here," he said in a teasing tone.

"What?" she asked. "No, of course not. We've only…"

"We've known each other a week," he said. "And next weekend you'll be leaving. I am not blind. I know you're not going to stay. You have things you want to do. A life to live. I can't expect that a short time getting to know you has earned me anything other than a spot on your Christmas card list."

"I thought we weren't going to talk about this." She leaned her head back on his chest and sought out a comfort there that she wasn't sure if she could find. "I thought…"

"I'm not trying to tell you what to do, Emma. I would never do that. I just want you to know that I will be here. I wanted you to see this house because someday I hope to answer my front door to you standing there."

**_A/N: I know that Emma would want Henry to know the truth about Gold, but I also think she would see it as a dilemma. Don't worry though. I have no intention of Gold doing anything to Henry to hurt him. He's dying, weak, and feeling very defeated right now. _**

**_I have about six more chapters written and I'm sending those to a friend tonight (along with the epilogue to Deserted – which I'm not happy with) so that she can post them later this week if I am not able to do so. Wish me luck._**


	14. Chapter 14

**_A/N: Thanks for your patience with this chapter. My son was born early Wednesday morning – Patrick is doing well and a big boy at 8 lbs. 11 oz. – We are back at home and I thought I would go ahead and post the next chapter. I will try my best to be consistent, but not sure how things will play out._**

"It feels pretty weird," Elsa said over the phone as Emma navigated her way through the aisles of the pharmacy. "Good, but weird."

"I know what you mean," Emma said softly. "I feel like we've been hustling to get business for so long and now…now we're finally free of that. I don't know how to react. What am I supposed to do?"

"I was going to ask that," Elsa said, showing no hesitation. "I'm planning to travel a little and then look for a new job. I was thinking about a few things, just can't decide. But I know you'll want to do something. You don't do well with the whole relax and see what happens next kind of life."

"You know me well," Emma said, she hesitated, her hand gripping the red plastic basket tightly. "I was thinking about something, but I'm not sure if it will work or if it's a good idea." Emma had never been one to bounce ideas off people. She usually made decisions and announcements and did not spend hours overanalyzing details with friends until people waved a white flag of surrender.

Elsa laughed. "If it involves that hot guy, Killian, I vote yes," she said, pausing while Emma huffed a half-hearted protest. "Oh, you knew I wasn't going to stay quiet. This is not something I ever say to you. No matter who you date, I'm usually the one who just tells you to be safe and have fun, but seriously, Emma. Use the money from this sale, buy tickets to Vegas and go marry that man. Move to a country house, live on his boat, buy a mansion in Florida. It doesn't matter. Just hang on to him. Go for it."

"Elsa, I've known the guy a week," she said. "I think it is a bit premature to…"

"I rarely say this, but at the risk of sounding like my romantically inclined sister I will. Does it feel right? I know it does. I saw how he looked at you. Emma, I don't care if you've known each other a year, a month, a week, or an hour. You know when it's right."

Emma let an older woman pass her, pausing in front of the shampoo and looking at the bottles of fruit and flower scented liquids. "I don't know anything," Emma said. "And besides it is too soon. I don't know how he feels or if what I feel is anything more than a fleeting thing."

"You know how you feel," Elsa protested. "And I don't think he's making it a secret about how he feels. Do me a favor. Don't shut him out because you think it is too soon, too fast, or not the right time. Please. Stop looking for excuses."

***AAA***

It's not an excuse, Emma thought as she closed her eyes to the glare of her laptop. She had been scouring the Internet for the past two hours and her eyes watered at the bright colors of the web pages and her head hurt from an overload of information. She was not even sure where to begin or how to make this decision, but it played in her mind over and over like that one lyric of a song that you couldn't get out of your head.

It had been an offhanded remark by Elsa, but it was something that Emma had considered for a long time. It was something that had bothered her, something that felt like it was missing. She'd brushed it aside with a stack of other lost opportunities and forgotten goals, but dreams don't always go quietly.

Her fingers flew across the computer's keyboard, asking questions in an e-mail to some administrator and her mind reeled with the possibility. The money that she was receiving from the sale of the company and other bits would mean that she could actually do this. Sure, it would be tight, but she might actually find herself a college student in the fall of the year.

It was far from a done deal. She had to take tests, apply, and decide if this was something she could and wanted to do. It wasn't quite the same dream. She wasn't talking about dorm rooms, frat parties, and breakfast at midnight with six friends and roommates. But a class or two at a community college was a doable task, maybe more later, but that would wait to be seen.

Just do it, she told herself as she hovered the curser over the payment button for an exam. Taking it wasn't a commitment. She could still back out.

***AAA***

Emma's next stop was the library where she found Mary Margaret behind the desk. "Belle is at the hospital?" she asked the woman, a bit uneasy given the circumstances. "You were…"

"I suppose. Belle was not comfortable leaving him alone given his condition. No matter what he did, he's her husband and she feels like she should be there." Mary Margaret gave a little shrug and turned to the computer screen and made a few clicks. "I had today off since a science teacher is doing the afternoon class. So here I am."

"You're a busy woman," Emma said honestly. "You are a great friend to Belle to do this. I really owe Belle and wish I knew what to say to her. I can't imagine all that she must be feeling." Emma leaned her elbows on the desk. "It's hard. I know."

"Belle sees the best in everyone," the teacher said. "We all try to do that, I suppose, but Belle takes that idea to the extreme sometimes. She is so loving and cannot imagine anyone she loves doing something as horrible as what her husband did. I can imagine that she is suffering with both the knowledge that he has done things, but also that she never realized it or believed it." Mary Margaret bobbed her head in agreement with herself, pushing some of the papers on her desk around as though to look for something. "So people don't just walk in this library for the heck of it. Not with tablets, laptops and all. What can I do for you?" She sighed folding her hands in front of her and trying to push away the uncertainty and change the subject.

"I guess I'm a little confused myself," Emma said. "I haven't been inside a library except with Henry for a long time." She was well read and enjoyed the process, but there was something about going into a library that seemed too formal.

The brunette's complacent expression said that Emma was not the first person to be a little out of place in a library. "Is there something you needed?" While she had already asked one variation of the question, Mary Margaret did not seem that annoyed. Her face was almost blank with its concern and/or frustration. "Emma, it's okay. I'm here to work."

Emma hated to be the one who did not understand, hated more than anything to be the person who was feeling weak in a situation. "I was thinking that I might like to take some classes at a college. But I'm not quite sure where to start."

***AAA***

Emma was standing on the docks when Killian and the students arrived back from their morning lessons, his surprised look all the reason in the world she needed to smile herself. She was still watching him talk with some of the children as they disembarked and headed for the waiting school bus. Only Henry bounding up to her with a huge smile seemed to break the spell of watching him.

"We saw three in a row and another one spouting," Henry told her, excited that they were actually getting a chance to see some of the whales they had been learning about. They were so close, Mom. It was amazing!"

Her son looked a bit windblown and his cheeks were starting to have a pink glow from his excitement and the sun that had beat down on him. She almost said something about reminding him to wear sunscreen, a daily statement that had come out of her mouth between instructions of brushing his teeth and making sure he had charged his phone.

"Sounds like it," she said. "And what about this afternoon. What is going on there?"

"We're studying something about archeology," he said, glancing over his shoulder where his classmates were finishing gathering their belongings. "I have to go."

"Go," she said, resisting the urge to embarrass him with a kiss to his cheek. "I'm going to talk to Killian."

"Mom?" His bag hung on his shoulder and readjusted it twice. "You know I think he's okay. I mean if you want…"

Emma smiled. "I know, kid," she said. "I think he's okay too."

Killian winked at her as the children dispersed and held up a finger that he would be back in just a moment. She walked the length of the boat, her hand tracing the wood that was polished and worn smooth, seeing the care and effort he took. It was not until the bus was pulling off that Killian hopped on to the decking with a loud thud to startle her. "I wasn't expecting to see you, love," he said, "but I appreciate the surprise."

"I didn't get a chance to ask you about your lunch plans this morning," she said. "You left pretty early."

Bending at the waist, he swung under a piece of rigging to stand before her, the smile already playing on his lips. "I missed you too," he said, dropping a kiss at the corner of her mouth and then brushing over the fullness of her lips. She groaned in frustration as he pulled away without fully kissing her, lips chasing his in an attempt to remedy the situation.

"I didn't say I missed you," she said, folding her arms over her chest with a defiant sneer. "I said you left early."

"I didn't bring an extra set of clothes and thought it best to not reveal too much about us to the boy even if we are taking things a bit slow right now." He was right. The night before he had driven both her and Henry to Granny's. She had invited him up and after a game of cards with Henry and a make out session once her son was asleep, she heard herself ask him to stay the night. Once again he had simply held her, letting her set the pace for the depth of their relationship.

"Will you bring some tonight?" Her voice sounded a bit huskier than she meant it to and she wanted to blush and wipe away the question when his eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline. "I…"

"I will be better prepared, love," he said. "Now, I don't think you came to discuss my packing or my attire. So what did you have in mind?"

She smiled, her eyes squinting in the sun and her hands fumbling for the sunglasses that she picked up at the pharmacy because she always seemed to lose hers no matter how organized she was about things. "Maybe we could just spend some time together not worrying about how to handle Mr. Gold. I wanted it just to be…

"Just us," he said, his expression hopeful as she pressed the glasses into place. "I think that could be done."

"Good," she said, backing away from him. "Then come on. I'm hungry." She grabbed his hand in hers and tugged indicating her desired direction with a tilt of her head. "Come on…"

This was a fun side of her, he thought, as he followed her and jumped into the yellow bug beside her. "So what are we eating?" he asked. "Or do you have a plan."

"I have an idea," she said, wrinkling her nose and pursing her lips in her best thoughtful display. "Do you have plans this afternoon or can I steal you away?"

"Steal away, love. I'm all yours."

She was quite amazed that he did not ask any more where they were going or what she was up to as she drove over the town line and down the road toward what looked like absolutely nothing. Instead, he asked her about Henry, her favorite movies, and books, and most anything that might reveal more about her. They debated the merits of sequels that he said were generally a bad idea and discussed secret television habits like reality dating shows and infomercials they had both bought things from in the middle of the night.

When she pulled into a parking lot 45 minutes later, he leaned forward and stared at the three story brick building in front of them through the windshield. "I'm assuming you're purposely trying to be coy, Swan, but I'm perplexed. Why did you bring me here?"

She fidgeted a bit as he leaned back against the seat. "Mary Margaret said you knew a few things about this place," she said, squinting out at the building that seemed intimidating to her. "She said you had a good brain to pick."

His laugh sounded nervous, almost too tense as he looked back at the building. "I have worked here," he said simply. "It's…Emma?" He had originally taught a few classes at the traditional looking campus before concentrating more on research and providing maritime services for other academic groups. Occasionally he would teach a class or two, but usually only after quite a bit of convincing by his dean. He preferred to view himself as a sailor than a teacher, but the steadiness of the money was more appealing with teaching than the feast or famine way he lived with his boat.

"I was thinking," she said, frowning up at the sun through the window. "I was thinking I might like to try going to school. Maybe a class or two. It's just that I never had that opportunity and with this money, I think I could swing it. I mean I would have to be careful. I couldn't go crazy." She pushed her hair behind her ears and then pulled it forward again. In the next moment her fingers adjusted her earrings and then back to her hair. He finally reached out to grab her right hand, his right arm crossing over his chest to reach her. She stopped and smiled. "It's stupid, right? Emma Swan, college student?"

"I think it sounds grand," he said. "I should think anyone who fights and goes for their dreams and goals is a marvel, but especially you, love." His smile seemed comforting and encouraging, but she did not let her eyes rest on it long. Instead, she leaned forward and folded her arms on the steering wheel and leaned her head there.

"I was just going to come and get a brochure," she said. "I thought that sounded easy. I thought it sounded like something I could do. I mean I could call for one or even download one, but I wanted to see what it felt like to walk…I don't know. I don't even know if this is the right…"

The passenger door of the yellow bug creaked open and he was out of his seat before she finished her sentence. She watched him sprint around the car and yank open her door too, pulling her to her feet and kissing her firmly before wrapping his left arm around her waist. "Why don't I give you a tour?" he asked, guiding her along. "I won't even charge for the behind the scenes parts."

Later when they talked about the college and the tour, she would tell him that he had led her, forced her into the admissions office after showing her classrooms, the library, a student center, some of the labs, and every other building she could imagine. He would argue that she had pulled him along, excited and nervous at the same time. They wouldn't agree aloud, but it was clear both were right. She was quick was to use words like if and maybe. He used more definite words like when and certainly.

Mary Margaret offered to take Henry to dinner before Emma ever asked, calling to inform her that she was doing so before the mother even had a chance to worry about making it back in time to pick him up. Killian had sprung into action at the news and given her directions to a college hang out that he said served greasy food that would firmly put this school onto her short list of possibilities.

Pulling into the parking lot, an uneven and unpaved space that probably had thrown a few cars out of alignment, Emma questioned him on his choice. "When was the last time a health inspector came out here?" she asked, regarding the building that looked as if it had seen better days.

"Snob," he taunted, walking in front of her as if challenging her to follow him through the wooden door and into a termite's dream of an interior. Wooden beams lined the ceiling and the splintered floors were uneven and stained. Each table with a four top and boasted a bucket of sauces, salt and pepper, and a roll of paper towels. T-shirts and jerseys from the college's sports teams and fraternities/sororities decorated the planks of the walls and hung from the ceiling to the point that it was a sea of color. A small raised platform stood at one end and a counter even smaller than the one at Granny's was at the other. "Two plates," he said to a woman behind the counter wearing a logo covered shirt.

Emma looked at him quizzically for ordering for them, as he did not usually make decisions for her without her consultation. He smirked and pulled out her chair. "There isn't a menu, love. It is chicken fingers, fries, and toast or nothing."

"That makes it simple," she said, scanning the half full room and feeling old in comparison to the customer base of late teen and early twenty somethings. "Come here much?"

"Usually for a to-go order," he admitted, "but if you are considering matriculating then we have to see if you are truly ready. If we did not have to drive back, I might even prepare you with some drinking games."

She sipped her soda, a bubbly and sugary drink, out of her straw and eyed him with some incredulousness that he would think she could ever fit in as a college student. "Here I thought you were going to offer me advice on applications and schedules. I figured you could tell me about the best place to buy books and what highlighters to buy. Study skills and stuff like that."

His lips pushed together as though he was trying to decide which advice to offer first. Leaning forward, he motioned for her to do the same. "I will help in any way I can, Emma, but I also thought I might enjoy the idea of dating a student. There is something a little forbidden and wicked about that for me."

She didn't pull back, smiling secretively at him. "Is there now? And you like that feeling?"

"Of course, love." The food being delivered forced them to pull back from each other. Still he never referred to her plans as anything but certain. She quit arguing as they ate, agreeing that it all sounded pretty nice. However, she never went into specifics. A band of scruffy looking college students had arrived, shouting out hellos to some of the regulars as they dragged their instruments and equipment over to the raised stage platform.

"You could continue to live in Storybrooke and go to school here," Killian said, finally broaching the subject again. "There are plenty of people who do that. It might come easier than moving to this town that does seem to be a little more geared toward the younger students."

She twirled the straw in her drink, the ice rattling. "I haven't decided anything," she reminded him. "New York and Boston are options, you know. There are plenty of schools, housing options. It could be better…" The way his face momentarily fell did not escape her notice. "But it also depends about Henry and school. I have to make sure his school is a good one."

"Should I start spouting the benefits of Storybrooke Academy," he said, wiping at a bit of the sauce he had spilled. "I could probably come up with some great statistics."

"I know it is a good school," Emma said. "I'm not discounting it and Mary Margaret gave me a brochure with all those statistics."

He grinned as one of the local bands began warming up on the low version of a stage. "Then I will have to come up with a new way to persuade you to life here in Maine."

***AAA***

Mary Margaret had texted that they were a few minutes away from the end of a movie and would drive Henry back to Granny's as soon as it was over. Emma couldn't help but smile at the attached photo of her son curled up on the floor in front of the sofa with the couple's dog in his lap and David sitting next to him with both of their attention rapt on the television screen. She had imagined that a million times since he had been born, a real family situation for him. She had thought about seeing him bound off a school bus and being there for every soccer game and science fair.

She and Killian were curled up together in the sitting room of hers and Henry's rooms at Granny's. It was barely big enough to be considered anything of substance. However, Granny had decorated it with a sofa, chair, small television, and two bookcases of tired and tattered paperbacks that seemed to change titles as people left one behind and took another. All conversation about her plans and thoughts had stopped as they sat there with her legs over his lap and her back against the arm of the sofa. Their kisses were lazy and soft, an underlying need bubbling to the surface as hands began to explore. His mouth trailed away from hers in a serpentine type pattern across her jaw and down her neck. His lips were warm on her skin and interspersed with tiny nips and licks. Each time she responded he smiled, the outline evident against her.

Three times he had said he should probably go before Henry returned and she had only pulled his mouth back to hers without reply. He did not seem that intent on leaving anyway, as she could not help but notice that he had followed her earlier request to bring a change of clothes by for the next day. Nothing had really been said about it, as he had dropped the bag conspicuously beside one of the potted plants and continued on his way into the room.

"Perhaps I could stay a bit longer," he said, near her ear with the warmth of his breath against her making her shiver.

"Henry will be here soon," she reminded him. "But yes, you should stay." She sank lower into the cushions into a nearly reclined position as he shifted over her. His eyes seemed a darker shade of blue and her own flashed back to him.

"Emma," he said a bit roughly, looking down at her expectant gaze. "I…"

Whatever he was going to say was interrupted by the obvious return of her son whose footsteps echoed on the stairs and down the hallway. She smiled apologetically back at him, smoothing down a bit of the ruffled hair and swinging her legs so that her feet were once again on the ground. Swallowing hard, stood up and pulled her up beside him as Henry entered the room.

If Henry noticed their flushed faces and kiss swollen lips, he paid no mind to it as he rattled off about the movie, the homemade ice cream, and the dog. He barely allowed anyone else to get in a word as he began his nightly ritual of packing his backpack for the next day for the first time without prodding from Emma. He greeted them both and managed to collapse into the chair next to the sofa with a satisfied but exhausted sigh.

"Think we'll see more whales tomorrow?" Henry asked Killian, kicking his sneaker covered feet up on the table. Noting the eyebrow raise from his mother, he lowered them just as quickly.

"You never can predict those things, lad," Killian answered. "But I would say our chances are quite good."

Henry's smile was wide, folding his hands across his middle. "I can't wait. Mom, you should see them. It's so cool!"

Emma's pride her in son's enthusiasm over something other than a video game or a comic book was evident as she leaned part way against Killian and watched her son practically bounce with excitement. "I bet it is."

Killian's hand covered hers on his denim covered thigh, threading his fingers through hers. "Perhaps," he said, casting look to both mother and son before he continued, "the three of us could sail tomorrow evening before sunset. I know of a spot that is usually frequented by whales feeding about that time of day."

"Awesome," Henry said, nodding enthusiastically before both he and Killian looked to her for her acceptance of the idea.

"I think I could be persuaded into that," Emma answered, biting back a laugh that both of them looked to be silently pleading with her to say yes. Both of them actually cheered when she agreed.

**_Thoughts? Reviews? Everyone survive the season finale? _**


	15. Chapter 15

**_A/N: So here is another chapter. Thank you for the reviews, kudos, favorites, and follows. Also thank you for the congratulations. Patrick is going to become a OUAT fan like it or not. I am still processing that finale myself since he had me a little distracted. So we watched parts of it again at 2 a.m. _**

The weather the next evening was comfortable and perfect for the trio to sail out toward the shoals where Killian had suggested. The winds were perfect and only light wisps of clouds stood out against a perfectly blue sky. Even the temperature was moderate and allowed them to enjoy the time together. Henry was quick to show off his new sailing skills to his mother, who acted duly impressed that he son knew such things as Killian watched on with a smile. It seemed to please Henry that he had more knowledge and experience than his mother.

"You've turned him into quite the sailor," Emma said to Killian as the boy scurried off on some task. "He's not so excited about traveling by car or subway."

"He's got quite a knack for it. If you move to the area, perhaps he could continue learning and eventually…"

Emma frowned. "I haven't talked to him about moving any place really. I guess I need to start thinking about this more clearly."

Killian nodded, but said nothing more as Henry returned. The two of them took turns giving her a tour of the coastline, her son sounding quite a bit like Killian as he pointed out certain features and locations to her. She teased them that Henry would probably pick up on his accent soon.

"Is that such a bad thing, love?" Killian asked, motioning for her to stand close to him. "I thought you were taken with the way I speak." There is a playful glint to his eyes, but he also seemed to be sincere in asking her. It was as though he wanted her to admit to something she might like about him, convince himself that it was not a one sided feeling.

"It is one of many things I like about you," she said, offering a little more than he was asking. She held herself steady next to him by placing one hand on his shoulder and the other on the smooth wood and metal wheel that steered the boat. "Can I?"

He smiled and spun her around to face away from him. "We're far enough out that you have nothing to hit," he said, chuckling when she bristled at the veiled mocking of her driving abilities. There was nothing overtly intimate about him teaching her to steer, as her son was around, but it was comfortable to feel his arms about her and his chest against her back. He gave her a few instructions, guided her a bit, and complimented her for learning quickly.

Henry commented proudly that Killian did not let just anyone steer. "I'm glad to know I have more privileges than your pre-teen students," Emma said with a smile. "I'll try not to disappoint you."

Looking toward Henry, Killian laughed as the boy hung half over the railing with a pair of binoculars looking for any sign of whales. He would get excited at any movement in the water and then let his face fall that it was not the animal he was seeking. After a few false hope moments, Killian pulled himself away from Emma and approached Henry. "You would have a better view from the cross ties, lad," he offered, pointing almost skyward with a little shrug. "I could rig the safety line for you."

Henry squinted up at the narrow space and rolled his lips over his teeth in thought. "I don't know," he said slowly. Only a few of his classmates had dared to climb up to that perch, most saying it was too high or dangerous despite Killian's assurance that it was safe. "Did…" He broke off.

Killian looked down at the deck for a moment, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck. "It is nothing to worry about, Henry. It took me a few tries before I got the nerve. My brother teased me mercilessly about it, but it was my own need to see that view that actually did it. That and….that and your father. You see, Neal and I were on a boat much like this one during the summer. Your father never considered it to be that high so he scampered up there like he was born to do it. He was seeing things none of the rest of us could and calling down to us about it. I suppose I got jealous and without another thought I was climbing that ladder and not thinking a thing about how high up it was or how a little piece of rope was the only thing tethering me to what was below."

Henry looked at the binoculars in his hands. "I want to do it."

There was no victorious look on Killian's face and after a quick instruction to Emma to keep them on course, he looped the rope around Henry and had the safety harness ready with no time for the boy to worry too much. They had made it this far before, but Henry had not been able to complete the climb with the other children present. It had left the young boy feeling embarrassed that he was not brave enough for the task.

His climb along the ladder was not a quick one and on two occasions he stopped to gather his nerves again. Killian did not shout encouragement, only watched and asked if he was alright or if he needed anything. Henry shook his head and did not look down as he made it a few feet more. Finally reaching the top, he paused again, holding on to the top rung of the swaying ladder. "Now what?" he called down.

"You see the ropes there to your sides? Grab ahold of them and pull yourself onto the beams. It's sturdy." Killian waited as Henry seemed to consider this, ignoring the gasp from Emma that her son was now many feet above the safety of the deck. "You'll need to duck under that one."

His moves were hesitant and unsure, but Henry moved forward and followed the careful commands from Killian. He looked no where but at the ropes, beams and planks that Killian mentioned. "Okay," he called down. I billeted the line to the mast." His voice seemed shaky but otherwise fine.

"Then open your eyes and enjoy the view," Killian instructed, a pleased and proud smile on his face. "You are officially my barrelman."

Returning to the spot at the helm next to Emma, he corrected their course a bit and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "Your boy is fine," he said, not waiting for her to ask if it was wise to allow him to climb so high. "It's safe."

She nodded, not wholly convinced of this. "He wasn't kidding," she said, studying her own hands on the wheel. "Boats and water aren't really my thing. I never feel very comfortable like this." She sighed, her toes curling as if to hold her tighter in place.

"I don't mean to make you uneasy," he said. "If it bothers you so, it is all the more remarkable that you have been quite brave to spend time with me on the water. Why?"

"You make me feel braver than I am. You make me feel safe, which is an odd thing for a bail bondsperson to say since I'm supposed to be brave on my own. But maybe since I'm not… I want to be that. I want to be brave and strong. Sometimes I think I am. Then other times I feel so lost and confused that I am not sure I could ever be anything more than a single mom who constantly does the wrong thing and is afraid that every decision I makes is going to somehow warp and damage my son."

"He's a great kid, love. I don't think you have done any irreparable harm." The fabric of his cotton shirt pulled tight across the ridge of his shoulders and rippled in the wind that blew. "I don't have children, but I don't believe they come with instruction manuals. Still, you seem to be doing a great job. He's healthy, smart, funny, and he loves and adores you."

"I want him to be happy," she said, looking up at the outline of her son against the summer sky. "I need him to be all of those things and happy."

"What tells you he's not?" Killian asked. "He seems happy to me."

She reached back to tighten her thick ponytail, smiling sadly. "Maybe I don't recognize it," she said, "but maybe it is because I have never recognized it in myself. I didn't know if maybe I've been spending all my time trying to be everything for him and I'm not quite whole when I'm not fighting for him to be all of those things."

"We all have battles, love, and sometimes it is just easier to keep fighting them than to realize that we have won or that they are over. But it isn't the battles that define you."

"You're sounding like Yoda," she giggled. "Or maybe that's just the teacher in you." She turned her head so that she could see his profile. "I don't know who I am without those fights and battles, but I like that you seem to be a part of the new me."

"Emma," he said softly. It wasn't a lecture or a motivational speech, just her name. And it had that same effect on her as if he had whispered the secrets of life to her. She kissed him softly and then stepped backward into the circle of his arms as they settled into the silence. Both took turns looking up at Henry and then out onto the horizon ahead of them.

Henry called down to them that he saw the whales ahead and a few coordinates and details later, Killian turned the ship in the right direction. His excitement was infectious, calling out descriptions of what he was seeing in a voice that Emma had previously associated with birthdays and Christmas. He wasn't wrong she decided. She could see his delight in the gigantic animals, watching them move so gracefully through the water and feeling small and insignificant beside them.

***AAA***

"I don't know how I'm going to leave this weekend," she admitted on the drive back to the bed and breakfast. Henry was asleep in the backseat. Even in the glow of the dash she could see that Killian was frowning. "I just need to pack up things. Get things settled."

"I could perhaps assist you," Killian said. "I'm pretty good at packing and hauling things for a man with one hand."

"I'll keep that in mind," she said with a laugh.

They didn't mention her moving again, her plans for the future, or her decisions about school. The radio hummed softly and she watched the dark landscape broken up by the lights of houses and the occasional street lamp. Without question he walked the two of them up the rear staircase and helped her guide Henry to his room, following her back to her own room. She knew it was becoming routine, a set life that perhaps he did not appreciate as a bachelor. She asked him about that.

"Is it hard to believe that I might like this routine?" he asked. "Perhaps I like being a part of your routine."

Her fingers played with the fabric of his shirt, pulling, tugging and then smoothing it down again. "Killian," she said with a regretful sigh. "I can't make a decision about the future based on you, us, and all of this." She let her face sink into his hand that was caressing it. "I can't be that woman who meets a guy and then twists her life to fit into his when I don't even really know you. This…us…it's pretty new."

"I'm not asking that of you, Emma," he said. "If you said you wanted it, I would follow you anywhere. No, it's not the smartest or most logical decision, but I don't want to consider the alternatives."

She wanted to ask for patience, understanding while she made a decision that seemed to be even more pressing as the days counted down. "I can't ask you to do that. You have a life here with your friends, work, your boat, and now you have a house to fix up. That's your life, Killian. It is what you've worked for and built here. It's not fair for you to start over because I'm too scared to figure out what exactly I want." She leaned her forehead against his shoulder.

"Emma, you're not asking for anything. You just have to say you want me around and I'll be there. Maybe I'm going mad, but I think you want me in your life. I know I want you and Henry in mine. I know this is going to scare you and I don't want to do that, but Emma, you have to know. You have to know that I'm falling in love with you. So no matter what your decision, that's not going to change."

She didn't raise her head, shaking it against him, the golden hair tickling his neck and chin as he tried to hold her there against him. "It's just so soon," she said. "I don't want to make a mistake. I don't want to hurt you." She didn't finish her thought that she didn't think she could survive being hurt again.

***AAA***

With Henry and Killian's early morning hours, Emma had gotten used to rising before the sun and hurrying to get her son prepared and out the door. She had never found herself to be that much of a morning person, enjoying the little luxury of a few minutes in her bed with the covers pulled up around her neck and her face buried in a pillow. When the sunlight streamed in past the curtains and blinds, she scrunched her eyes closed at first, wanting to ignore the signs that it was time to wake up. Then it occurred to her that she had not heard her alarm. She had not gotten Henry out the door.

Eyes open and hands pushing down the covers, she struggled to pull herself from the bed, momentarily realizing that Killian was not there beside her. Her bare feet padded across the floor as she pulled on her robe and pushed her way into Henry's room. His bed was empty. How could she have slept through everything? She spun quickly, her nose twitching as the scent of coffee assailed her and the cinnamon accented the scent. There on the bedside table was a travel mug of coffee and a fresh cinnamon roll dripping with icing. A note laid between the two.

_You were too beautiful to wake this morning so I thought it better to let you sleep. Don't worry. Henry and I were able to fend for ourselves. While I hope you enjoy this breakfast, but it does not make up for the breakfast in bed that I owe you. _

_Love,_

_Killian_

_P.S. I hear that the steamers are pretty good for lunch. Care to join me?_

She laughed, sinking back down onto the bed, wondering briefly how Killian and Henry had pulled that off with such loud tendencies in the morning. She did not even remember Killian waking up, as he had fallen asleep before her the night before. His scent was still on the pillow and if she imagined hard enough she could still feel the pull of his arms around her and way his breath tickled against her skin.

He had said he was falling in love with her and that he knew the idea would scare her. He was right. It did. She did not know how to react to his declaration other than to run far away from him and give him every reason to reconsider. But she hadn't run. That was progress, she told herself. She was learning.

She had not lied when she said she felt safe with him. While logic and reason told her that she should keep him at arms' length right now, she just couldn't. So maybe, she thought, sipping on the coffee, that meant it was time to do something new.

***AAA***

David had seemed shocked when she called him and even more shocked when she walked into his office. However, he quickly recovered and welcomed her with a grin and welcoming hug hello. "I'm going to assume," he said, pushing back in his rolling chair and then checking his balance, "that your recent silence means that all is taken care of when it comes to Mr. Gold? Further, I assume that your silence means you did not go through my services to take care of it. So I don't want to know any details."

"Everything is fine," Emma said, nodding as he put away a file a bit symbolically. "I am actually here to talk to you about Killian."

His brow furrowed in confusion and he leaned forward as though they might be overheard. "Emma, I'm not sure what you expect me to say about him. He's a good friend. A good guy…"

"Yes, he is," Emma agreed. "It's not directly about him, I suppose. It's just that…"

David's smile was friendly. "Are you trying to say that my wife is going to go around saying that she told me so when it came to the two of you?"

Emma laughed. "I came to you for help," she said. "I'm considering moving here with my son. And I understand that Mr. Gold seems to own much of the real estate in this town so renting something might not be easy." She ran her thumb over the upturned edge of his desk calendar. "I heard that you and your wife own a loft here in town and that you were considering leasing it out since you moved into your new home."

Nodding, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Real estate has been a tough market in this town with Mr. Gold primarily running the show. I'm afraid we haven't had much luck and it's been sitting empty. But I'm afraid I'm a bit confused. How does my loft space relate to Killian? He lives on his boat and from what he told me, he's going to fix up that old house of Cora's for his own. Did something change?"

Her smile was a little secretive as she looked back at him. "Killian, as you know is a great guy, but he's a little pushy when it comes to things. Determined. Much like your wife."

There was no mistaking the recognition in David's eyes. "Yes, they have that in common."

"If I announce that I am moving my son and I here, he's going to suggest that I move into that house. And while I can see the benefits, I'm not quite ready for that. So I thought that perhaps I could have a plan in place when I tell him." She shrugged. "Avoiding the awkwardness?"

"I can see your point," he said, "and I can also see that this might need to be a short term lease."

"I'm not ready for anything long term yet," she said, not specifying what she meant. "But maybe we could see how it works out?"

"And I suppose you'll be able to pay the rent. I don't know your financial situation, but…"

She sighed. "I'm planning to go back to school. Just part-time. I applied online this morning. And well, I think I can pull together a fair rent price for the space. But that kind of brings me to the second reason I'm here."

"Now I am curious. Why are you here?"

"How would you like a part-time deputy?"

**_Review?_**


	16. Chapter 16

Killian wondered if she would be there at the docks when he finished with the students, wondered if she would smile at him with those perfectly shaped lips and if she would rush at him as though she had not seen him in a month. He had never been a patient man, but something about Emma told him that he had to be or he would risk losing her to the inner diatribe in her head that encouraged her to run scared. So he kept things slow and steady, never really moving beyond heady kisses and making out on couches and benches and in the seats of her car or his jeep.

Children, especially pre-teens, were usually quite stuck on themselves and into their own worlds. Henry was no different, but Killian did wonder exactly what the boy knew about his mother. He would never have tried to bribe him for more information, but he would not be adverse to hearing a few secrets of her heart.

"Are we doing something with you tonight?" Henry asked when they had a few moments alone that morning. "Because I was thinking…"

"Henry, I hope you don't mind…"

The boy's eyes flickered with a moment of panic. "Sorry," he said, dropping his head down. "I guess I got carried away."

"What?"

"My mom is always saying that we're fine without anyone. She tries hard, you know? She plays video games with me. She takes me to horror movies as long as there isn't any sex in them. We have contests to see who can eat the most pizza. She takes me to the batting cages. I know that isn't typical mom stuff. My friends have dads or stepdads that do that stuff, but I just have her." He shrugged, mannerisms a perfect match for the mother he clearly loved. "I guess this time here with you hanging out with us has been as close as I've had to what my friends have. I know I came here to meet my grandfather, but it's been cool hanging out with you and my mom. I get that you would probably rather just be with my mom. It's cool. I'm sorry that I have interrupted that."

Killian could not help but smile at the self-deprecation that was clearly the boy's mother. He could almost hear her voice in his words. "Henry," Killian said with a furtive glance to make sure the others were still occupied, "I told you before that I quite enjoy my time with you and your mother. It isn't an either/or thing for me. You're a fantastic lad and anyone would be quite lucky to have you as a friend, a grandson, a stepson, or a son. Don't sell yourself short. And I have enjoyed spending time with you this summer. I hope to spend more."

A loud crash and then some defensive blaming of each other came from the classmates. Killian sprang into action and pulled together the last of his patience to deal with the mess. By the time he turned back to Henry, the boy had moved on with one of the other students.

She was waiting on him when they docked and the kids bounded toward the school bus as though he had tortured them all morning. He waved fondly at them, only getting a reaction from Henry who gave him a lopsided grin as he hoisted his backpack higher onto one shoulder before he calls out to his mother. Killian should have hosed down the deck at that moment, cleaned up after the students who despite his instructions were messy and disorganized. But instead he rushed down the gangplank and headed to his jeep where Emma was leaning against the front end with her arms across her chest and a playful smile that grew as he got closer.

"You're spoiling me," he said after kissing her soundly not once but twice. "I hope you aren't here to say we can't spend time together today."

"We can," she said. "Someone promised steamers and I happen to be a sucker for them."

More information to file away on Emma Swan, he thought. She seemed different as she rode next to him, leaning over to change the radio station and complaining that his taste in various musical genres was not eclectic but bipolar. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, he kissed her at the stop lights and whispered not so appropriate things when she leaned into him. She blushed as she smiled back, a sight he hoped he could duplicate again and again.

He enjoyed it, this side of her that was not tainted by disappointment or distrust, but it was unsettling at times. When she set about a third pass at giggling, he finally decided to bring up the subject just to put his mind at ease. "You are not like yourself today, Emma," he said, using her name in an attempt to disarm whatever argument she might raise. "I rather like it, but you haven't told me why."

"Can't I just be in a good mood?" She was toying with the plastic straw in her drink and smiling as though she knew something wonderfully charming about him and the whole world.

"Aye, you can, but it is not all together a natural state you find yourself in so I think I have the right to ask." He smiled over the rim of his glass. "For science."

"I have some news to share, but I don't want to get into it now. Not here anyway." She shamelessly bit along an ear or corn and wiped the buttery remnants away with both her napkin and a swipe of her tongue, which she may or may not have noticed made him groan.

"Tease."

She enjoyed tormenting him, he thought as she insisted on ordering dessert to prolong their lunch and defer this discussion about what had her acting carefree. She merely giggled at his frustration and flirted brazenly with him in a very un-Emma like way. He was about to lift her into his arms and give up on his gentleman efforts when her phone pierced through the music playing and the conversation of the other patrons.

She offered her first frown of the day when she looked at the screen and read the words Belle Gold. Holding up one finger to him, she answered it and tried unsuccessfully to keep her voice at an even keel. "How bad?" she asked, slumping dejectedly into the wooden back chair. "He's at the school right now, but I'll pick him up."

She gave Killian an apologetic look as she dropped her phone into her pocket. "Gold isn't doing well. There is talk of putting him on a ventilator unless his breathing improves. It could be Henry's last chance to see him and talk with him." She shook her head. "I hate this. I feel like I'm pushing my son into a situation that is neither healthy nor safe."

"He won't hurt your boy," Killian said. "Like you said, it's his last chance to talk with his grandfather. Go with him. Make sure nothing is said to hurt either of them."

She looked down at her plate. "I know I should." When she raised her head, he could tell that she had been trying not to cry. "He's just a kid. He shouldn't have to deal with all this death and sadness. He should not have to do this."

"This is going to sound a bit cold," Killian said, motioning the waitress over to get the bill. "But death is not the hardest or worst lesson that Henry is going to learn. And try as you might, love, you aren't going to be able to protect him from them all. He's already lost his father and did not get to say goodbye to the man. I suspect he would survive not saying goodbye to Gold either if that is what you choose."

Emma blinked back the tears that threatened to fall. "I don't know that Gold deserves a goodbye."

"He doesn't," Killian said quickly. "But your son does. Your son deserves to say goodbye to the man who despite everything was trying in his own way to do something for your son."

"Illegally and immorally," Emma reminded him as the waitress left with the money and she stood up. "I can't seem to tell Henry that either."

"Someday, Swan," he said, placing his hand on her back as they walked out of the crowded beach shack and climbed back into the jeep. "He'll understand someday. It's your decision, but I still think the best thing you can do is not rob your boy of the few memories he has of his father's family. Let him believe for a while longer."

They rode back to the school in almost silence, a stark contrast to the playful banter and flirting on their earlier drive. She broke the silence a few blocks from the destination. "Did you ever look for your father?" she asked. His breath caught as she asked the question. "I have looked for my parents, but nothing yet. I didn't have much to go on though. You seem to remember him."

If he had not been driving, he might have closed his eyes to the pain that the question brought. She tried to take it back, tell him that he did not have to answer it. "My father reached out to me once. Or rather his new wife did."

She turned her own red rimmed eyes to him, but he didn't return the gaze. "What happened?"

"I ignored the request," he said. "I pretended like I didn't get it. She was a persistent sort and continued for a while. Eventually she must have tired of the pursuit or he got wind of it and stopped it for her."

His head tilted back a bit as though he was hoping gravity might stop any of the tears that threaten to fall. She hand her hand wrapped around his forearm with a stroking gesture.

"Don't you have things you want to say to him? Things to get off your chest?" She swallowed hard in her own hidden frustration. "I know that if I met my parents there are so many things I want to say to them that I might burst."

"I wouldn't know where to start."

***AAA***

In the end, she agreed to take Henry to the hospital after his classes were over, but the boy did not make any big speech to his grandfather. He merely stood at his mother's side as the man slept with his breathing labored and rattling. Killian waited in the hallway, telling them both that he would be there for them when they were ready to leave. Henry lasted only a few minutes before he asked his mother for just that and then hugged Belle, managing to ask if he might have the photo she had shown him the week before of his father at around his same age. She had nodded, tightening the grip and casting another look at her husband.

"We should let him rest," she said, linking her arm through Henry's and walking them both out of the room with Emma trailing them. "Maybe burgers at Granny's?"

Henry nodded and called out to Killian to join them. Emma linked her arms through Killian's and Belle did not object as the foursome headed out into the parking lot. Killian helped both ladies into the jeep and climbed in after Henry sat next to his step-grandmother. He looked a bit sheepish. "It might be best that I just drop you three off. I don't want anyone to feel…"

"You're probably hungry too," Belle said, her eyes trained on the hospital rather than Killian. "And let's be honest. I can't base my judgment of you on my husband's biased opinion. I should at least get to know you a little before I decide if he was right or wrong."

Looking into the rearview mirror, Emma saw that her son was studying Belle as she said those words. It was probably the first he had heard against his grandfather. She did not want this conversation to happen this way. "I don't think anyone can turn down a burger from Granny."

Henry sighed as though he was contemplating her statement for validity. "I'll miss her burgers when we get back home. I'm going to miss this place."

Killian did not react, but Belle whipped her head around to look at the young boy. "You two are definitely leaving then? Soon?"

"Sunday," Emma said. "All our stuff is there and there are things we can't put off taking care of as soon as possible." She was thinking about getting out of her lease, packing, and doing the last of the tasks to close the offices with Elsa and Anna. She was also thinking about the long list of things she needed to do to get them moved back to Storybrooke, including enrolling Henry in school, unpacking their stuff at the loft, turning on the utilities, and just telling Killian that she had come to her decision.

"I knew," Belle said, pressing her lips together. "But I guess I wasn't thinking it was so soon. You'll come back to visit though, won't you? I know you haven't had the time to get to know us that we had wanted, but you have a home here too, Henry."

Emma quit looking into the backseat when Henry began to tell of all the things his missed about home, starting with his gaming system and his bike. He even managed a few mentions of two boys at schools that are more friends than enemies. She turned her attention to the tight jawed Killian who looked as though he wanted to scream out a protest, but again it wasn't the time or place to have the conversation she needed to have with him. She still wasn't even sure of the right way to tell him that she was willing to pursue a life that included him, but that she had to keep some of her walls up still for her own sanity.

***AAA***

Belle left them after one burger and brushed off Killian's offer to drive her back to the hospital or home. "I would enjoy the walk," she said, smiling weakly. "Thank you three for the distraction. It was nice to get away for a little while."

For some reason Emma felt the need to hug the woman and did so to her own shock as well as Belle's. "I'm sorry," she said, rattling off an apology though she had no idea why.

Belle accepted it with the not so subtle stares from the two males at the table. "Me too," she admitted. "Me too."

After a promise to Henry that the photo he requested and others were his, she waved and headed back out the door. She had said precious little to Killian and there was only one smile on record, but it was an improvement over her unabashed disdain for him the week before. His pride that he had won someone over, even slightly was evident as he and Henry discussed the merits of toppings on milkshakes and how if they each ordered a different flavor then they could sample more.

Emma scooted into the booth beside Killian and laughed at their strategic planning session over milkshakes. "Ruby looks a bit busy," she said, leaning as unobtrusively as she could manage against Killian's arm. "Why don't you go place our orders with her?" For once Henry didn't argue and headed over to stake his claim with the waitress.

"Belle's really going to miss him," Killian said, looking at the animated way that Henry was demonstrating how he wanted the whipped cream on his milkshake. "She's quite fond of the boy. I think most people who have gotten to know him are too."

"Killian," Emma said, brushing her hand against his. "I need to talk to you about this. I made a decision and I think…"

"You wanted chocolate, right Mom?" Henry asked as he jogged back over to the mask she wore. She'd run out of reasons to have a moment alone with Killian.

"Sounds good," she said, squeezing Killian's hand in hopes that he knew she wasn't leaving. He always seemed to know what she was thinking and feeling. And maybe, he did this time too.

***AAA***

"You aren't very good at that game," Emma said when Henry managed to beat both of them at the dusty game of Monopoly that Granny had in the sitting area. "He had you on the run in the first 20 minutes."

"You were right there with me, love," he said with a chuckle. "You lost too."

He sat there on the floor between the couch and the coffee table, his legs stretched out in front of him and his head thrown back on the sagging cushions where Emma was lying with her head on one arm and her feet thrown over the other. "So we weren't trying to let him win?" she asked, stifling a yawn. "Because that would make us save face here."

"I'll go along with that theory," Killian laughed. "Or we could just say that your son has better business sense than the two of us put together."

Henry's footsteps echoed as she called out to him that he should take a shower before bed, allowing him to shave minutes off his wake time in the morning. "Shoes don't belong in the shower," she repeated when the footsteps continued.

"So he has a business mind, but not a good one for hygiene?"

She laughed, propping herself up on one elbow and running her free hand over the messy dark hair resting there beside her. "So I've been trying to tell you something all day," she said, beginning again. She'd been so vague with Belle earlier that she knew he was expecting her to say she was leaving Storybrooke for good. She just had not wanted to tell anyone else before she told him. "I haven't talked to Henry about it yet, but I think he's going to like the idea."

"The lad seems quite excited about going home," Killian said, his eyes closed and his voice steady but low as if he did not truly want to say the words aloud. He'd already offered to live wherever she had decided best, but she had not said yes to that. She had told him it was too soon and changed the subject.

"He's…" she paused, looking at his closed eyes and imagining them when she told him. Was he truly going to be excited for her? For them? She wasn't so sure why she even thought there was going to be a them. They had kissed dozens of times, fallen asleep in each others' arms, and he had said he was falling in love with her, but what about her. What about this guy was so different? What happened when he realized she wasn't worth it? "He's doing so much better than he was when we first got here."

"Aye, I think this has been good for him."

"You and Mary Margaret have been great," Emma said, taking on the subject in another way. "He's never had anyone in his life like you guys. It's been amazing. He's so eager and excited about learning and you've…you've told him things about his father that I couldn't. I think that's helped him with all of this too."

Killian remained silent, the sound of the banging pipes from the shower the only sound. His eyes opened slowly as he lolled his head back awkwardly to look at her. "Emma, is that what you've been trying to tell me?"

"No," she admitted, lowering her hand from the thick dark hair. "I applied to the college. I don't know that I'll get in or anything. There is still a placement test to take and classes may be full, but I did apply so there's that. And well, I've been looking into arrangements." She had hoped that his smile would be encouraging, maybe even hopeful, but there was a blankness to it.

"There are some nice places near the school," he said, giving up on the awkward head position and turning his body to face her. "Or you could…"

"I'm going to rent the loft from the Nolans," she answered before he could finish. "They haven't been able to sell it and so it made sense to rent it out for a while. Henry will be close enough to Storybrooke Academy that he can walk. And I'll be close to work."

"Work?"

"You're looking at the newest deputy in Storybrooke," she said, smiling slyly. "I start in August, but David agreed today. So you better watch your step, buddy. I wouldn't want to have to break out the handcuffs on you."

"You'll be bloody amazing, love," he said, genuinely smiling at her with a softness to his tone. "I can't wait to see you in your uniform." He rose up to his knees, hovering close to her. "So this means I will be able to see you past this weekend?"

"Do you want to?"

She expected some quick witted answer that would make her laugh, something that would make her swoon with his carefully chosen vocabulary, or even something laced with innuendo that would make her blush. His simple yes was enough.

***AAA***

Thursday was the last day of classes for the enrichment program and Henry bounded off for the jeep with Killian before the sun was up. Emma had watched them leave with her lips curled around her cup coffee and with a study guide in front of her for the placement test.

"You look quite studious, Swan," he said noting her thin t-shirt and jeans as she sat cross legged in the chair of the sitting area with the book on her lap and coffee in the travel mug he had left for her the day before. Her blonde hair was piled messily on her head and his favorite black rimmed glasses perched on her nose. He could not resist kissing the tip of her nose and then quickly on her lips before pulling away. "I like this side of you."

"You like me looking like a bookworm nerd?" she had asked, burying her bare feet under the throw pillow for warmth. It might be summer, but there was a certain chill in the air during the dark hours. He was already pulling over the hand knitted throw and tucking it in around her as if he could not help but protect her.

"Absolutely," he had declared, next reaching over on the table for a pencil and placing it delicately behind one of her ears. "Now that completes my fantasy for your look. When I get back maybe we can discuss the theory of relativity or some sonnets? I'm open on the topic."

She rolled her eyes, lips twitching in her resistance to smile. "Does that mean you're coming back here after you're done to help me study?"

He had smiled after brushing his lips over hers one more time. "Not the most exciting of our dates, but certainly a different activity for us. I'll be here after 12. Shall I bring lunch?"

She was trying to remember her high school algebra, a subject that she had despised ever since they introduced letters into her math class. Her teachers, and there had been a few with all her moving, had told her she had a mental block about it. She had refused to learn and was destined for mediocrity without the basic knowledge of her classmates.

Solving for x was supposed to be a mystery, she told herself. She loved a good mystery. This one was not living up to her expectations. Pinching the bridge of her nose with her fingers, she jumped as the phone next to her buzzed in greeting. A quick glance told her it was Elsa. She always smiled at the picture she had selected of her blonde friend. They had been out one evening celebrating something minor with cheap drinks and snarky comments to men who wanted to buy them more. Elsa had been laughing just before the picture was snapped, but you couldn't tell it from the tight lipped and condescending look on her narrow featured face. She always looked like that before she delivered news to Emma and it seemed a fitting tribute on her phone.

"All's well in the wilderness how about the big city?" Emma answered, knowing her friend still thought of Storybrooke as the last outpost before some frozen tundra where it was not fit for habitation.

Elsa cleared her throat and said hello, none of the humor – even unintentional seemed to be shining through. "I've been packing up some of the files and waiting on the copier guy to come pick up the machine."

"You could have waited until next week," Emma said, dropping the book and spiral notebook to the table next to her. "I am going to be back in town to get things…"

"Walsh came by," Elsa interrupted. "He's such an ass."

Emma's stomach tightened with a combination of anger and anxiety. "What did he want?"

The woman on the other end of the phone cleared her voice again and did a combination of a nasal whine and a deep guttural voice that sounded nothing like Walsh but was not really supposed to do that either. "I was just checking on her. I'm not sure I was all that polite to her when things went awry."

"He probably didn't get his final check and hopes I'll talk to Gold for him," Emma said bitterly. "That little…"

"He is an ass," Elsa reminded her. "He also asked when you'd be back."

"I hope you gave him directions to the closest bridge."

"I drew him a map," she said just as bitterly. "It's just that…"

"Spill it."

"Emma, you're taking this whole Walsh was a con-artist paid to date you pretty well. It scares me. I know you, Emma. You don't take this stuff well. You tend to get a little crazy. I've seen you knee guys in the groin for less than this. I've seen you plot out murder just for fun. Are you telling me that you're just over and beyond that humiliation? Because I'm not so sure that I would be."

"Maybe I've grown?" Emma said with a measure of humor. "I don't know. I'm angry. I feel like an idiot for falling for him. I actually told him that I loved him. I thought I did…I never do that." She pushed off the throw, her body warming with the day. "I'm in denial, aren't I? I'm trying to ignore it."

"That's natural," Elsa said. "I just don't want you to explode. Like I said. I know you and that means I know that you are doing well right now to deny that this whole thing has happened and I'm sure the hot sailing guy helps distract you. But what happens next week? What happens when you are alone with your thoughts and you remember this? Because you will. I don't want you pushing people away again, okay?"

Emma removed the glasses and placed her hand over her eyes as if to ward off the thoughts. "I'm trying to be normal," she said as if it was some huge task. "I'm moving here. Me? Moving to a small town. I got a real job. I am applying to go to school. I'm signing Henry up for school."

"All positive steps," Elsa said. "And while I'm going to miss you like crazy, I'm totally coming to visit all the time. I'm going to be that annoying weekend guest who just shows up and lets herself in with the little key you have hidden in one of those fake rock things that is supposed to fool a burglar."

"You'll always be welcome. I'll even have some of your favorite things on hand so that you can have your grilled ham and cheese and Twinkies. Okay?" She had gotten to know Elsa's eating habits as well as her own and Henry's. During one of Elsa's nasty breakups from some guy the two had sat together on the sofa and scarfed down Twinkies and drank hot chocolate as snow came down outside. With each bite of the processed snack, Elsa had confessed her own insecurities about dating and finding the right guy.

"I'm holding you to that," she said with a laugh. "Does that town actually have an airport or am I going to have to drive?"

"The horrors of travel by car," Emma said mockingly. "Or you could take the train."

"Sounds like the wild west."

***AAA***

Emma had managed half of the practice problems by the time Killian arrived with a plan to order a steaming hot pizza and a six pack of beer that he claimed was not inappropriate for the lunch hour. She had giggled when she answered the door to him. "I never know how much to tip a good pizza delivery guy," she had teased, standing on her tiptoes in her bare feet to kiss him hello before she let him enter.

"I'd be satisfied with a few more of those," he said, pulling the six pack out from under his arm. "Though you might be disappointed I didn't get dessert."

"I'll forgive you this once," she said, wagging her finger at him playfully. "Just don't make a habit of it."

He captured her waving hand with his own and tugged her gently toward him. "I couldn't do this with my arms full." His mouth was on hers instantly and as his hand drifted from her waist upward. Whatever protests she had about the dangers of the beer bottles and her studying was lost between their fused mouths and roving hands. "I hope you were successful with your studying before I arrived, as I fear I'm going to keep distracting you."

"Isn't that what college is all about?" Emma chided playfully. "Pizza, drinking, and exploring."

His chuckle sounded more like a growl and his eyes darkened as his tongue peeked out between his lips. "Where were you in my academic days, love?"

She laughed again and playfully swatted at his chest. "You are a good distraction," she said, her hand traveling up over his shoulder and her fingers tracing a line down the nape of his neck. "And you've been quite patient too." Her eyes dropped, dark lashes fluttering.

"Perhaps on the exterior," he said, pressing his chest more firmly against hers. "Inside I've been a lad counting down for Christmas."

She smiled back up at his exaggerated pout. "You know," she said, running her fingers around to the front of his neck and tracing up to cup his face, "I'm not really thinking now is the best time for a pizza."

"You would prefer something else?" His eyes widened and brow shot up as she pulled him from the sitting room back to her bed. While he might have searched for it, she showed no doubt in her eyes.

"Maybe we could start with dessert? I mean if you're going to distract me from my studying, I might as well go all out for it. Or I could switch from algebra to geometry. For example, I could measure the angle from this point," she kissed along the solid line of his jaw, "to this one," landing at his mouth.

He gave his best thoughtful expression. "I think you might be getting the hang of this college thing after all, love."

**_Reviews?_**

**_A/N: I wanted to give them a little fluff time there at the end but since this is not Rated M, I didn't want to go all out for their first time together so it was just a little afternoon fun for them. _**


	17. Chapter 17

**_I got a little carried away in this chapter and it turned very fluffy. Don't mind the post-partum woman with the tears. Also enjoy the fluff…more angst to come. _**

Emma was a woman who knew all about escape routes. She planned them and mapped them out as she sat on a stakeout. She practiced them in her mind. Any room or situation warranted at least two planned means of escape. So for her to lay in his arms in her bed was an awkwardly wonderful experience where she wondered when her fight or flight response would kick in fully.

Making love had been easy or at least the decision had been for her. She was not blind to her desire for him and even less inclined to believe that she was alone in the wanting. And just as the fantasies that had played in her mind had told her, their bodies seemed to speak the same language and rhythm that left them both sated, sweaty and smiling as she wondered again why she had not pursued this course of action with him before.

She was allowing her eyes to drift over to the clock beside the bed and calculating just how much time she had before Henry would be back when she felt the shift in his weight. Her first thought was that he was about to leave, satisfied and now ready to move on with his day that wouldn't include her near break downs and emotionally stunted issues. But he didn't remove himself from the bed, instead propping himself up and gazing down at her with the bluest eyes that had returned back to their natural lightness.

She felt her stomach seize with the adoration in his expression and she swallowed away the words she usually used to get out of these kinds of situations. "Hi," she said, unable to think of a single other syllable or word that would be appropriate in that moment.

His laugh was light as he repeated it back to her before descending on her mouth again with a kiss that was sweet and almost innocent in the aftermath of their passionate exchange. His other arm hung over her middle without pulling her possessively to him. "Should I get my shoes?" he asked, looking at her with concern. When she looked back at him questioningly, he simply smiled. "I know that look, Emma. You're about to the break world record in the sprint out of this room. I only ask for a bit of a warning so I might give chase."

She turned onto her side to face him, the sheet feeling too tight over her with the movement. "I'm not running," she said, the declaration more than just an answer to his teasing accusation. "I'm here."

His jaw dropped a bit, as if he was trying to determine the right words to say. It was then that she noticed he looked almost shy, a fumbling version of his usually confident self. She liked this version that made her feel not quite as uncomfortable. "Yes," he finally managed to say. "You are. And I am thanking every star that's not currently in the sky for that."

"Silly."

He captured her lips again and was contentedly whispering sweet and somewhat naughty things in her ear. He wasn't just complimenting her or telling her how long he had wanted to share this. It was the way he spoke of them and his feelings for her that made every nerve go on edge. She melted at the sound of them and felt contentedly normal until she didn't. She fell back onto her back, her eyes closing and golden hair splaying on the pillow. "I'm not good at this part, Killian," she said, throwing her arm over her eyes and trying to block out the concern and panic that might be staring back at her. "I never know what to say at this part."

"We don't have to talk," he said. From the position of his voice and heat radiating off of him, she knew he was closer now. "I don't think it matters if we talk."

She peeked out from the crook of her elbow. "Really?"

"Truly," he said. "I don't know if I can manage to not ruin what just happened if I don't shut my trap now. I am sure to say something that will upset you or scare you. It's the last thing I want to do."

"Killian?"

"Yes, love?"

Unfolding her arm from in front of her face, she wound it toward him, digging her fingers into his thick hair and pulling his face toward hers. "We can do other things with our mouths."

"Aye, that we can."

***AAA***

Killian actually managed to pull himself together to join a few friends for a drink that evening, understanding that Emma was planning her conversation with Henry without him as a distraction. Standing in the doorway, kissing her goodbye for what was probably the sixth time, he kept finding one more place to touch or one more moment he wanted to share with her.

"You're coming back in a few hours," she reminded him. "I thought we were watching that awful movie tonight." She might have been scolding him for his reluctance to leave, but she had yet to loosen her grip on him and had to know that if she whimpered one more time after he pulled away from a kiss that he was going to take her back inside.

"I feel like a bloody teenager trying to get in a few more minutes before curfew," he confessed. "I hope you're happy that you've reduced me to this." Her hands were on his collar, tugging him closer and then pulling back.

"Ecstatic," she said, rolling her eyes. "Thrilled. Delighted. Overjoyed."

"Someone's been studying her vocabulary for her test," he said. His eyes crinkled in delight as she laughed at him, not a dainty little laugh but a full chortle of approval at his words.

Her feet were still bare and her hair damp from the earlier shower that she had refused to allow him to share and then relented after a little whining and whimpering of his own. She looked fresh and without any adornments, tilting her head back to stare up at him, curls falling over his left arm that was anchored around her back. He muttered something about her being beautiful and dove in for another kiss when the thundering steps of Henry echoed in the hallway and Emma jumped back as if on fire.

To complete Killian's cliché of feeling like a teenager, he ducked his head and fell back against the door with the doorknob sharp in the small of his back. He even muttered a sort of apology though nobody was sure if that was to Emma or Henry.

"I'll see you in a bit?" he half asked. Nobody answered.

Henry's reaction was not exactly dramatic. He took in the sight of them, looking at his mother, then Killian, then his mother again, and promptly asked about dinner. Even Emma sighed a bit of relief and said that the two of them were going to eat at Granny's while Killian was busy. Hands steering her son by the shoulders, she winked at Killian and reminded him that he had promised ice cream for their movie snack that night. The slight blush on her face was nothing like the reddened splotches on his own as he shuffled toward the stairs and bristled at the sound of the door shutting with them on one side and him on the other.

"So what's the topic?" Henry asked, dropping his bag in the sitting area and watching his mother run her hands over the dresser in her room for a pair of earrings. "Are you going to tell me how we're going to visit more often and that Killian will be coming to see us?"

"No," Emma said, finally selecting a pair and working them into her ears as she joined him in the sitting area. "I'm not. But I thought we could talk at dinner." He was already on the couch and she looked reluctantly back at the door.

He looked warily at the suitcases that were already stacked in the corner, some of them partially packed for their return trip. It wasn't that unusual of a sight, as she rarely settled in long enough for there to be unpacked anything.

"Are we moving here because you're going to date him?" Henry asked, his foot absently kicking at the coffee table with the toe of his sneaker. Emma's hand darted out to his knee to block the action.

"We're moving here," Emma said, her voice hesitating as she chose her words. "We're moving here so that I can take a few college classes, work, and raise you. I've been pretty impressed by Storybrooke Academy this summer. Haven't you? I thought you liked your teachers and the other kids." She chewed on her lip as he studied her, feeling that he was about to judge her for poor decisions and flighty goals.

"I like it okay," Henry answered just as hesitantly, his head cocking to one side. "Are you sure this doesn't have something to do with Killian?"

"Kid," she said warningly. "I don't make all my decisions based on my love life. Let me start at the beginning." She explained about selling the business and that there was nothing to tie them to their previous life. This new one, she explained, would mean they could have a stable home around people they both seemed to like. She would be around more. He could go to a better school.

"I get it," he said when she finished. "I just wanted to know. I mean, I'm not blind. I've seen how you two are around each other. I'm aware that he's spent the night. I saw you guys kissing." He wrinkled his nose a little at that word.

"Sorry about that. We haven't wanted you to feel awkward what with your class with Killian."

"I don't," he answered quickly. "I guess I just wondered what…"

"What are you wondering?" For just a moment she saw her son in his younger years, his expressive eyes peeping over the counter in the kitchen as she whisked the eggs. She saw him craning his neck back and opening his mouth to show her a loose tooth. She saw him sweetly crawling into bed with her after a nightmare and tearfully telling her about the monsters that had threatened them.

"It's nothing."

Her arm was on the back of the couch and she dropped her head onto it, sighing. "You know," she said, pausing pointedly until he looked back at her. "You know that I'm not going to make a major decision without you. So if there is something you want to know, you have to ask me. I'm many things, but I'm not a mind reader."

Slumping back against the couch, he grunted. "I like Killian," he said, waving off his mother's relief laden sigh of her own. "He's great. I just don't want things to change if something goes wrong."

"Wrong?"

"You haven't ever really had a boyfriend who hung around a lot. I know you've dated guys. I'm not dumb. Anna or Elsa would come and babysit. And you think I don't know that was why I was at Mrs. Nolan's house the other night? That's all fine, but when you break up with a guy you sort of want to change things. We move. Or you used to start a new job. What happens when…"

"You just confirmed that Killian and I are dating," she pointed out. "Now you're wondering about how badly I'm going to take the break up. You really are my son. Such a pessimist."

He gave a silent laugh. "Just checking. History and all."

She bit her lip again, amused that her son who had not even fully accepted that girls were not the enemy was currently in contemplation of her love life and dating history. "As much as I'm for this whole honesty and blunt truth about life, kid, I'm not having a conversation with you about my dating history or issues with commitment. Look, I'll be honest. I don't know if this with Killian will last, but I think it is worth a chance. And I promise that I think we will both react like adults if and when things go south on it. And you will always be the number one guy in my life. I mean who else is going to teach me about video games and which brand of potato chips are best?"

He managed a real laugh. "Got it. So can I ask one more question?"

She wrinkled her nose in return. "I may regret this, but ask ahead."

"My grandfather," Henry said as though that were the complete question. She only looked at him expectantly. "What did he do that got you so mad? I know he's not exactly a good guy. My father couldn't stand him." Henry grabbed the throw pillow that sat between them, his fingers tugging at the fringe. "Is he…"

She knew this would come, the questions about the man and the wondering. Taking a deep breath, she straightened herself up to face him. "Your grandfather and your father did not get along," Emma said. "You knew that already. But he loves you very much and wants you to have the kind of life that he thought your father should have too. He wants you to grow up to become a very successful businessman and continue on his traditions."

Henry bit in the inside of his cheek. "Is that a bad thing?"

"It isn't something your father would have wanted for you," Emma said honestly. "Your father would say that this man put his business and his career before everything else, including his family. But I think he truly does have love for you and wants the best for you."

"Is that why we're staying here then? Because my grandfather wants us to stay?"

"He doesn't know we are staying," Emma confided. "You see, I want you to be happy. Whether it is working at a place like Granny's or teaching a bunch of kids or singing in a band or being a doctor or running your grandfather's businesses, I want you to be happy. It is going to be your choice what you want to be and I'm going to fight to make sure nobody takes that choice away from you because I'm your mom and that's my job."

"Do I have to decide right now?" Henry asked, his eyes a bit wide at the idea.

"No," Emma said. "I'm just explaining to you why you might have felt like your grandfather and I didn't get along. Because he's sick and not going to live much longer, he's been thinking a lot about the future. He wanted you to be raised and groomed to take over his businesses. I fought him on that and explained that you're not ready for that decision yet. But you get to make that decision yourself when you're ready. Okay?"

Henry nodded. "Where are we going to live?" he asked, the thought just occurring to him. "With Killian? On his boat?"

"Killian is going to live in his house when he gets it finished, but you and I are going to live in a loft here in town. I think you'll like it. I get to have my bedroom downstairs and you get the whole upstairs loft to yourself. It used to be where Mrs. Nolan lived." She watched him process this information. "Are you okay with living here in Maine? I have set some things in motion, but the decision is yours too."

"I think I'm going to like it here," he said, finally breaking into a smile. "You're happy here so I am too."

***AAA***

Henry won three certificates and a ribbon during the last day of his enrichment program, though at his age he acted as it was no big deal. Still he beamed proudly into the camera of the local reporter, Sydney Glass and his mother's as Mary Margaret posed with him and the other recipients. Emma sat on the aisle seat in the audience next to David and laughed at how uncomfortable Killian looked up on the stage with a starched white shirt and a tie. "Tell me you got a picture of him," David half whispered when Killian tugged at the tie again, grimacing as if it was actually choking him. "I need blackmail material."

"I think he looks kind of dashing," Emma muttered back, laughing silently. "And he would kill me if I said otherwise."

"Said like a woman in love," David teased back. "Fine I'll do it". He stood from his seat with a few people behind him complaining and took a few shots with his camera. Plopping back down, he leaned over toward Emma. "You're better at taking orders at work, right? Otherwise we will have trouble working together."

She rolled her eyes and resisted the urge to wave at Killian who had found her in the audience and was giving her his best silent plea for help. He clearly hated this part and sat on display next to other men and women who spent their days teaching children. When the ceremony finally came to an end she wasn't sure who made a break for it first – the students or him.

David lifted Killian's tie with two fingers and shook his head. "I'm not even going to ask where you unearthed this thing or how you managed to get it tied in a perfect…" He broke off looking at Emma across the way. Frowning, he dropped the tie and folded his arms across his chest. "I seem to recall telling you two weeks ago to not hit on any of the moms in this program."

"You should know by now, mate, that I am horrible with directions and directives. Besides, I thought your lovely wife was dogged that Emma and I become an item." He shifted his blue eyed gaze toward Mary Margaret and Emma who were laughing a few tables over.

"My wife seems to think you're redeemable and that Emma might just find you worth her time," David said, following the gaze and shaking his head at his obstinate wife. "I can see on her face that she's happy. She's even moving here to be closer to you. What about you? What are you giving up for her?"

"Anything she wishes," Killian answered. "I would have followed her anywhere, including to whatever forsaken town she chose. And while I have no doubt that she would not move here if she didn't want to do just that, I have no intention of letting her slip away. Her or her boy."

David gave an almost imperceptible nod of his head. "Good," he said, loosening the stance of his arms a bit. "She's coming to work for me. I don't want her distracted by plotting your death."

The usual fare of cookies, cupcakes and overly sweet lemonade that was tart the moment a sugary snack competed with it, was laid out on plastic table cloths and picked over by the students and the parents. Henry was grinning wildly as Emma discussed plans for Henry's enrollment with the assistant head master and Mary Margaret, her hand protectively on his shoulder lest he run off and do something embarrassing that would hurt his acceptance.

"Most of our students go through a much more rigorous process, Ms. Swan," the woman said haughtily. "However, his previous records are impeccable, Mrs. Nolan has written a glowing letter of recommendation, and he is the grandson of Mr. Gold." She gave a nervous smile toward Henry, revealing that what Killian had said was true. The woman did not actually like children.

"I appreciate your accepting him," Emma said, the glass of lemonade in her other hand going untouched. "I know he's going to really enjoy it here."

Mary Margaret saved the day by talking to the administrator about the need for a new copy machine and telling her she had just the one in mind. That meant budget discussions and appropriations that weren't decisions a parent needed to hear. So when they managed to wrangle themselves free from the administration, Emma and Henry joined Killian by the balloon sculpture that she had not quite recognized as anything other than abstract art. "Congratulations," Killian said, nodding to the certificate for the highest grade in the sailing class. "You were a strong student."

"I liked being out on the water," Henry admitted, his weight shifting from one foot to the other. "Do you think maybe we might go out on your boat again when Mom and I move here?"

"Any time you wish."

"Nice tie, Mr. Jones," Emma said as Henry was whisked away for another group photo with his classmates. "You look very formal."

"Are you a fan?" he asked. "Because I quite fancy you in that dress." She hoped she was not blushing as much as it felt like she was as his eyes followed over her body in the blue dress she wore. It was a simple number with capped sleeves and a billowing skirt that hit at just above her knees. Paired with silver jewelry and a pair of strappy high heeled sandals that put her on an even level with him almost, she was clearly dressed to impress. "Though I might enjoy seeing it on the floor."

"This is a school function," she hissed, "not a bar where you need to use pickup lines."

His eyebrows waggled in a feigned moment of innocent banter. "Is it my fault that I like laundry?"

"When I get settled into the loft I'm going to remember your desire for household chores," she said. "Do you have a fetish for windows or floors?"

No matter how much crepe paper or how many balloons the school gym never looked anything but the sweaty and musty place where children were herded in for 45 minutes of activity that was required by the state. Emma glances around, feeling the warmth of his body next to her and wondering for the 100th time that day just what she was doing. She was not a woman who felt these things or let herself become too comfortable. While dating she always had her keys handy for a quick getaway. She practiced excuses to leave more than pickup lines of her own.

"Anything for you, love," he told her, smiling against her ear with his breath warm. His arm was loosely resting on her hip, not moving even when people he knew approached to say hello. She had to give him credit for that, as he never once flinched at the implications.

"So your friend, David," she said, nodding in the direction of her new boss, "said there is a crab claw festival tonight."

"Did he?"

"Well, I was thinking we might want to go?"

***AAA***

The docks were a crowded place that Friday with various stands from the local fishermen and eateries offering the obligatory crab legs and cold beer, as well as other seafood delicacies. Even Granny had dragged out an oversized grill and together with one of her cooks, served burgers and hot dogs for the less seafood inclined.

Emma and Killian watched in respective horror and amusement as Henry loaded his hotdog with everything from chili and cheese to fried onions and sauerkraut. He had to open his mouth wider than normal and tilt his head sideways to fit it in, the various toppings dribbling down his chin as Emma chased after the mess with a napkin.

"That is impressive, lad," Killian told him, winking as Emma gave up her attempts to avoid stains on his shirt. "I would have an upset stomach for a week. Not to mention the weight I'd gain. You must have an incredible metabolism."

"It's going to eat clean through his stomach lining," Emma said, pursing her lips. "Granny let you make that?" She was dressed casually in a pair of skinny jeans and a thin blouse that tied over her shoulders with two thin straps. The white of her blouse showed off the slight tan she had achieved during the two weeks. However, it was nothing that notable, as she tended to burn more than tan.

"She didn't think I could eat it," he said between bites, a messy smile following. "But I can."

"He's a bloody marvel, that one," Killian chuckled, his left arm around the back of Emma's chair and a cold beer bottle in his right hand. "You know, Neal had a stomach that was lined in lead."

Henry, who had been practically cross eyed as he stared at the half eaten hot dog, looked up curiously. His mother was nodding at Killian. "I remember," Emma said. "The day I met Neal, he was eating nachos with jalapenos and habaneros, plus buffalo chicken wings with extra hot sauce. He offered me one and I thought I was never going to get enough water down."

"You hate hot and spicy food," Henry reminded her, his brow furrowed at the thought. "Why did you eat it?"

Killian took over the answer, as Emma had just taken a bite of a crab cake and was attempting to swallow without choking. "Lad, you'll learn soon enough that men do a great many things to impress a beautiful woman, but every so often a woman will do something to impress a man she might fancy. I would bet your mother was doing just that."

The answer made Henry smile even wider. Even though he had only seen an awkward truce between his mother and father, he often wondered about their beginnings and how they might have even liked each other. He knew his mother's memories of his father were not always the happiest, but on occasion she would let a minor detail slip from her tongue.

Most people had taken to sitting on the edge of the dock, their feet dangling over the edge as they ate and socialized with the locals and tourists. Killian's boat allowed the three of them to stake out their own claim as they sat in folding chairs with a small table and avoided the mess of eating off their laps. Emma groaned as she pushed her plate away, already full from the mountain of items that she had gathered. "My eyes were bigger than my stomach," she said regretfully. "I couldn't eat all that in a week." Using a plastic fork, she broke off a bit of the crab cake and shoved it toward Killian's mouth. Henry rolled his eyes both at the gesture and Killian's eagerness to take it off the fork.

"Can I go see if anyone I know is here?" he asked after he finished his last bite. "I'll be careful." The last sentence was an added bonus for his mother who always gave that instruction. She nodded and he was on his feet before she could change her mind.

"You knew they did this," she said accusingly as Henry disappeared into the crowd. "You live on this boat. You had to see them decorating today."

"In my defense, love, I never said I didn't. And I haven't actually spent a night here this week. I've been too occupied with a certain blonde goddess at Granny's. So much so that the old girl is planning to charge me for room and board." Leaning forward and pulling her to him at the same time, he kissed her quickly. "Anyway, you seemed so excited to know about something in this town that I hadn't the heart to tell you that it is an event every other Friday during the summer."

She looked suspiciously at the crowd again, the dangling lights and the paper lanterns. The scent of the food grilling wafted upward with the smoke and mingled with the scent of the ocean to create a festive atmosphere that only enhanced the sound of a live band that had set up just down the dock that was playing acoustic versions of some popular covers. "Is it always gets this crowded?"

"People in Storybrooke work hard, but enjoy their off time. It's a good mix most days." He raised his bottle in greeting as the Nolans waved from a little piece down the dock. "And this is nothing. Wait until you see how it is on the Fourth of July. There is a parade through town with so many people you'll wonder if there will be anyone left to watch it. Then after that the cook outs start. You can barely see in front of you for all the smoke from the grills. And finally everyone gathers on this end of town and watches as they shoot the fireworks over the water."

Emma folded her legs and feet under her in the chair. "Sounds great. Can I count on a seat right here or should I practice my squatting to make sure I get a prime spot?"

"You," Killian said, getting up to help Mary Margaret aboard as David carried a blanket and a container of grape juice shaped like a wine bottle. Over his shoulder was a tote bag that clearly belonged to his wife, as the colorful lettering spelled out A+ Teacher. "You are welcome any time. No invitation needed." He kissed Mary Margaret's cheek gently and led her over to the circle of chairs that he and Henry had put out earlier.

"You know you could have helped me too," David huffed, hiking a denim clad leg up higher than necessary to step onto the deck. "Not all the attention has to go to my wife."

"I didn't realize you wanted a kiss, mate," Killian teased to the delight of Mary Margaret who laughed as her husband dramatically pushed the darker haired man away and almost lost the load of stuff he was carrying.

"I'm going to remember this," David said, dropping his items and moving to sit down next to his wife after a quick hug with Emma, "because you've already made noises about using my sander on your floors. I'm not an idiot. I know that means you want me too."

"I would never turn down free labor," Killian answered as he offered his friend a beer. David turned it down with a quick look at his wife and explanation that he was not drinking while she could not drink. But even Emma did not miss the longing look he gave the bottle.

***AAA***

Mary Margaret and David did not stay long, as her exhaustion overtook their desire for companionship. And when Henry found some classmates to hang out with, Killian decided to make the most of the music and low lights. Pushing aside the chairs, he held out his hand to Emma and invited her to dance with him. She regarded the invitation with a hesitant and skeptical look.

"You're too much," she laughed as he dragged her into something resembling a dance hold. He wasn't as awkward as she thought he might be with his dancing. It was a gentle sway and once she relaxed it came naturally to her. She wasn't even sure when the last time she had danced had been and reasoned that it had been at some club with a drunk guy, but like many things, Killian was replacing that memory with one that was uniquely their own.

He didn't proclaim anything as they held each other and let the music wash over them. They spoke about anything and everything, making an easy time of it and reminding her why she wasn't completely scared at the idea of something more. There was something about the way he tentatively brought up things about the future that made her smile and want to do those things with him. He spoke of farmer's markets later that summer and a fall festival that sounded right out of a book. She lit up when he mentioned apple picking with Henry and maybe a snowy Christmas at an inn that he knew about in Vermont.

Little by little the crowd dwindled and eventually even the band was silenced. Left with the sound of the water lapping at the pilings and the occasional creak of the wood of the boat, she stood watching the water as he returned the chairs and other items to their rightful spots. She told him she would give him points for his neatness.

"It'll be a lovely night for a walk," Killian answered as the moon grew higher overhead and created a silvery path on the water. He approached Emma from behind, lifting her hair off her neck and nuzzling the spot for a moment. "I suppose we should go find your boy."

"Already found him," Emma said, not moving from her spot near the bow of the boat. "He's spending the night with Belle tonight. She's decided to go home for the evening and was concerned since she has never actually stayed in the house alone. What help he will be, I don't know, but she seemed grateful."

"Oh." It was one of his least eloquent statements.

She smiled, glad once again that he did not always have the perfect retort to hers. It made him seem more human somehow. Without turning away from the watery view, she reached a hand out behind her, searching for his. She didn't come up empty.

"I'm going to miss this," she said, laughing lightly that she had been so scared of the water and now was so comfortable in this setting. "And no that's not my way of saying that I'm never coming back."

His mouth ran along to the strap of her top, nosing it over and brushing at the newly exposed skin. "I have no doubts."

"It's just going to be different," she said with a sigh. "This is like vacation. When I'm back here in a week or so, it'll be different. Not better or worse. Just different." She giggled at his frustrated sigh.

"I still don't understand why you are doing this with Henry alone. I could help, you know." He had offered to drive with her to the apartment and help pack up. He'd even offered to recruit friends for the heavy lifting. Now he sounded petulant. "I don't volunteer for these things lightly. I'm not a knight, love."

"Your sacrifice is duly noted," she said, bringing their entwined hands around her so that they sat just above her hip bone. "But it is not that much. I swear. I'm not a pack rat. And don't you have that research team to take care of next week. Something about sailing out Monday?"

"Complete and utter waste of time," he muttered, his mouth still busy along her skin. "I could cancel that. There are other boats."

"And they hired you," she reminded him, turning her head and waiting until he lifted his to look at her. "I'll be back soon and you'll be back around the same time. We can still text and e-mail and phone each other. It'll make our reunion all that much better." She laughed at his pouting lips, knowing that she had never once in her life considered pining for someone while she was away. She might have been reconsidering that stance especially with the knowledge that his access to communication would be spotty and only available at the different ports.

"Can they be dirty texts, e-mails, and phone calls?"

Her head fell back on his shoulder as she giggled. "I'm not sexting with you, Killian."

"Please, Swan," he said, exaggerating the protrusion of his bottom lip even more. "You're going back to see your friends. You'll have plenty to do. I'm going to be bloody well stuck on a boat with two researchers, a doctoral fellow and a graduate assistant – all men. You should at least send me a nice photo to keep my spirits up."

She repeated her adamant denial that she would do no such thing. "But I guess," she said, acting as though she was about to make a huge concession. "We could go down to your bed and create a few memories for those lonely nights at sea."

**_I can't believe I wrote such saccharine, but I'll just blame the hormones. Let me know what you think, please. _**


	18. Chapter 18

**_A/N: So here is one more chapter of mostly fluff. We're about to get into a little more of the plot, but since I probably can't post tomorrow (doctor appointments and a first visit with Patrick's auntie) I didn't want to get into the drama quite yet and leave you wondering. _**

Killian felt her shift slightly in retaliation for the sun that had found his one window in the cabin and was now climbing with bright fingers up the bed. He knew from her breathing that she was still asleep and the movement was just reflex of wanting to stay in that practically comatose state. Her lashes were shadows on her face and her lips were parted slightly with soft bursts of air against him. Her hair was fell like a thick blonde curtain and splayed in tangled tendrils across his skin in a way that he committed to memory as he did the way her curves seemed to match his body perfectly and how she tucked herself into the nooks of his side and made herself a part of him.

He was not surprised to find her still sleeping, as it was early yet and they had not exactly been restful the night before. And as much as he had enjoyed sharing a bed with her all week, he was still finding it remarkable to wake up with her in this way too. She had complained that she was going to be sore and unable to lift a box after all this, but she'd seduced him with as little as a smile and opened herself to him in ways that he had only fantasized about.

He was reluctant, but he had promised her a breakfast in bed and intended to deliver on that promise even if he had to milk a cow or fetch the eggs himself. Thankfully he did not have to go to that trouble. However, deciding what to make was a whole other story. He started with pancakes and bacon because he knew she liked them, the mix laced with a bit of fruit he had in the half sized refrigerator. Then he worried that he had already worn out that particular dish and began to make waffles. A trip back to the refrigerator yielded sausage so he added that too. And just as he transferred the poached eggs to a plate, he heard her in the doorway.

He should not have looked, as he knew that whatever state she was in was going to kill him. Her golden mane refused her attempts to tame it by hand and framed her face in a curled and tangled mess that reminded him of the silken curtain that had fallen over them the night before. She was wearing his shirt, which was probably the most cliché thing ever, but seemed to attack every nerve in his body. She had even relieved him of a pair of socks that she had pulled up to her knees and laughed as he raised an eyebrow at the sport themed apparel. "My feet were cold," she said with a little shrug.

"I owe you breakfast in bed," he reminded her, holding up a plate as if to demonstrate what he was talking about. And while it was the biggest mess of food she had ever seen, she saw the pride in his eyes for having made it for her. Still, he had to be teased a little.

"Who else is joining us?" she giggled at the plate piled high and the glasses of milk and orange juice, as well as mugs of coffee. "Because you cannot expect me to eat all that."

"I got carried away," he admitted sheepishly.

"You think?" She took a step forward to the counter that separated the kitchen from the dining nook and he stepped in front of her. His hand rested on her shoulder and he spun her back toward the bed she had vacated.

"I said breakfast in bed."

She groaned. "At least let me carry some of it." Grinning he handed her the tray with the drinks and told her to be careful. She laughed and tried to channel her inner waitress, wiggling her hips when she felt him watching her walk away and eliciting a groan of appreciation from him.

When he managed to make it into the cabin that barely had room for the bed, she was sitting back on her heels, the shirt crawling up high on her thighs and her hands and lips were wrapped around one of the mugs. Her eyes danced as he laid the tray in front of her and joined her, waiting until she had finished that sip of coffee before he pulled the mug away and set it down. "You are determined to make this harder than it should be," he chastised. "I was planning to wake you up with all this."

"The coffee woke me," she said. "So technically…"

He rolled his eyes at her and patted his hand on the bed. "Now be a good girl and sit back. This is breakfast in bed, not a bloody picnic." He waited a moment for her to realize he was serious. She crawled under the soft sheet and pulled it up to her chest, flopping histrionically onto the pillow. Letting her eyes flutter shut, she let out a fake snore.

"Okay," she said with her eyes clenched. "I'm asleep and waiting."

He chuckled at her uncharacteristically playful demeanor. Bending forward, he brushed his lips her face at an agonizingly slow pace. When his lips placed a lazy kiss on hers and then pulled back, she opened her eyes and grinned up at his expression. "Good morning."

"Good morning to you," he said, his own grin more of a smirk. "I trust you slept well."

She nodded her head yes and linked her hands over her head in a luxurious stretch, her sock covered feet sticking out from the end of the sheets. "Best night ever. You?"

"Perfect," he agreed. "I have a little something for you," he said, waving his hand over the still steaming piles of food. She quirked her eyebrow at his use of the word little to describe what a restaurant would refer to as a buffet. "I know it is a bit much, but I wanted you to have choices."

***AAA***

Belle reported no change in Mr. Gold's condition, stating that a night at home had done her a world of good. Together with a box of photos and mementos from Neal's early life, Henry had been waiting on them to pick him up after helping his step-grandmother perfect her own pancake technique. The usually less than demonstrative boy hugged her goodbye and hugged his mother and then high fived Killian before jumping into the jeep for a first look at the loft.

"There isn't much to look at," Emma told him, as she was aware that almost everything had been removed so that the floors could be redone before their move in date. Still, she agreed that the box of Neal's things could be stored there since it made little since to transport it back and forth.

Emma had already seen the place with David, but it felt different to put her own key into the lock and leisurely inspect the place that was to become her new home. She appreciated the transom windows and the frosted panes of glass in the doors to the bathroom. Even the claw foot tub and the older appliances seemed to add to the character of the space. Henry called out from the loft space that he loved his new bedroom and was already planning how the furniture would fit.

Killian sat on the kitchen island as she stowed Henry's box in one of the cabinets. "I've spent a bit of time here," he informed her. "When David and Mary Margaret first started dating he would host poker night here."

Emma straightened up and ran her hands down the front of her jeans. "Are you angling to get me to host your card games here?" she asked. "Because unless I get a seat at the table it's a no go."

He tilted his head and smirked at her. "I'm not so sure that is a good idea, love. See your poker face would distract me and I'd never win a hand."

She laughed, shaking her head at his comment. Calling Henry down, she waited on her son to finish whatever it was he was doing upstairs. "So since you made me breakfast so many times," she said, standing between his legs at the edge of the counter. "I was thinking you should be my first dinner guest here. And before you listen to Henry about my cooking abilities, I do have the back-up plan of Granny's being like a block away."

He leaned his forehead against hers. "I would be honored to be your first dinner guest, no matter the menu." Pulling back, he looked at her and nervously ran his teeth over his lips. "I have a little housewarming gift for you, by the way."

Startled, Emma laughed. "When did you get that?"

"It's nothing really," he dismissed, digging into the pocket of the faded jeans he was wearing and pulling out a tissue paper wrapped item. "I was going to give it to you tomorrow before your drive, but now seems like a good time."

She took it from him with trembling fingers, ignoring his comments that it would neither explode nor bite. A single piece of tape held it closed and she gingerly pulled at it, unfurling it carefully. The colorful item it revealed made her giggle. "Really?"

"We talked about them on our way back from Portland," he reminded her, hopping down from the counter and taking it from her. "I thought you could place it here." He attached it to her old fashioned refrigerator and smiled. "That way I can leave you notes."

The small gift was not much in terms of value. It was a simple magnet in the outline of the shape with the scrawling font spelling out Maine, a humpback whale was over it. She had told him she was holding out for such an item and as she stared at it, she felt a tingling starting in her limbs as she realized he had not only remembered it but sought it out. "Thank you," she said, her hand coming to rest over his heart. "I love it."

***AAA***

Henry stood on the dock behind Mary Margaret's house with the fish he caught, flanked on one side by Killian and on the other by David as the two women made over his accomplishment. "Look at that," Mary Margaret said in the practiced voice of a teacher. "That will feed all three of you."

Emma adjusted her camera and instructed the guys to smile as she clicked away at the three of them holding their catch. "And I was worried it was going to be another night of burgers at Granny's."

"It is better than her lasagna, love." Killian said as he and David carried the fish over to the scaling and cleaning station that David had built into start of the dock. "Rumor is that it is frozen."

"Now he tells me," Emma bemoaned, shoving the point and shoot into her bag and placing a hand under her son's chin so she could inspect his appearance. "Did you put on sun block?"

Henry nodded his head yes, but slowed his bobbing as she eyed the pinkness that was already settling on the apples of his cheeks. "I forgot."

"Henry," she said warily. "You know you'll turn red as a tomato." She sighed and let go of his chin. "Go put some on now. Maybe you didn't do too much damage."

Mary Margaret said she had some aloe in the house and jogged along with him back through the yard.

"She's going to be a great mom," Emma told David as he hosed off a section of the dock. "She's a natural with kids. I guess it comes from being a teacher."

He smiled back at the house though the sight of his wife was long gone from view. "She's wanted this baby forever," he admitted. "We've…it's been tough. But you're right. If there was ever a woman born to be a mother, it's her. She's everyone's mother. Just ask Killian."

"She used to ask for my report cards back in school," he said with mock seriousness. "Bloody well tried to ground me once for a bad grade." He was busy with a knife and the fish, warning her to stay away if she was the least bit squeamish.

"You probably deserved it," she said with a laugh.

"Probably?" David chimed in. "That jerk used to make straight A's without even trying. Some of us would study for weeks for a test and he'd come in and ace it. Ruined the damn curve every time." The sheriff shook his head with the memory. "It's a wonder some of us didn't try to kill him in his sleep."

Emma laughed at the playful banter, including the way that Killian would wave the knife in front of David and tell him that he could clean his own fish. She felt a small twinge for Elsa and Anna and hoped that the two of the would make good on their promises to visit Storybrooke. She could especially see Anna there, probably dragging her husband out to antique shops and squealing with delight over everything be so quaint and quiet. Elsa would complain loudly about the quiet and probably have nicknames for everyone she met, but she'd secretly love it and call it her second home.

Having finished with the fish and passed them on to David for grilling, Killian joined her at the end of the dock, dangling his feet over the edge. "Penny for your thoughts?"

"I miss my friends," she said honestly. "I love it here. I love your friends. I love being with you. I love how happy Henry seems. It's just…"

"You'll be seeing them tomorrow," he reminded her. "I have no doubt that Elsa will have a million and one questions for you." He winked at her, the descriptions she had provided of the woman having been vivid.

"Are you worried what I'll say about you?"

He pretended to think about it. "I think you rather fancy me," he said. "At least I would hope so. I don't think I have too much to worry about."

"I don't know," Emma said, her words losing a bit of their bite with her hand laced with his and her head falling to his shoulder. "I could be pretty critical. You know how girls are when we talk. And you have a few traits that she will probably have a ball dissecting."

"I'm going to miss you," he said, resting his cheek against her head. "I'm getting used to having you around."

"Ditto. I guess Henry and I'll be reduced to Poptarts and bagels for the next week."

***AAA***

Emma had never had anyone worry about her, but when Sunday morning dawned with a few clouds and the threat of rain, she was beginning to think that she might have to sneak out of town. Regina and Robin had stopped by first with Robin checking the air pressure in her tires and Regina providing maps that she had highlighted with safe places for a pit stop and restaurants that she recommended. Philip and Aurora were next with their offer to paint the loft any color she chose during her absence, as they wanted to do something to welcome them to town. Mary Margaret had filled a cooler bag and basket full of snacks for the road trip and even gathered a few reading list items for Henry to read on the way to prepare for the new school year. David and Killian took the yellow bug to the closest service station to have it filled up with gas and from the wrapper she found in a nearby receptacle had installed new windshield wipers as well.

"I'm coming back in just a few days," she said as she hugged Ruby. "This is ridiculous that everyone turned out to see us off."

"We don't want you to forget to come back," Ruby said, handing over her own list of restaurants to try on the drive. Each one was denoted with details about the staff. "Because if you're even a day late then that boy…" She pointed toward Killian with her chin. "He's going to start a search party. And that means I have to take off work. And that means I can't buy that new cute pair of shoes I saw at Modern Fashions. So then I'll have to break into the loft to get a new pair of yours. And that means David will catch me. So then I get arrested, but I can't afford bail because I haven't been working." The dark haired woman looked proud of herself for the speech. "So hurry back so I can avoid all that."

"I'll be back, but do you think we can get all these guys to show back up to help unload furniture? Seriously. I think we'll need them just climbing the stairs."

"I'll convince them," Ruby said, hugging her one more time and running off to serve the early morning breakfast crowd. "Breakfast is in the front seat!"

Emma went toward Philip and Aurora while David and Mary Margaret discussed whether or not the food basket should be buckled into the backseat for the trip. Killian avoided both discussions and pulled aside where Henry was checking the batteries on his gaming device. The boy looked up hesitantly and laughed. "You look nervous," he said, sliding the back of the device closed.

"Take good care of your mother, lad," he said, giving him a tap to his shoulder. "I want both of you back here in one piece."

Henry nodded and looked over at his mom's cheerful face as she spoke with Aurora. "You know," Henry said slowly, "I really didn't think I was going to like Maine. I thought it was going to be boring."

"It's not Las Vegas," Killian conceded with a laugh, "but I hope you found something you liked about it."

A deliberate grin spread on his face. "You want to know if I still like you now that you're dating my mom, don't you?"

Killian took a step back, the words of the boy hitting a little close. "Lad, that's a bit bold, but given what I know about your mother and father, I'm going to say it fits. Yes, I hope our friendship isn't on any decline because of my feelings toward your mother."

Shoving the game in his pocket and kicking the dirt with his shoe, Henry laughed. "I knew you liked her, but you've been pretty cool to hang around. Maybe when we move here we can hang out sometimes. Not just with my mom."

"Any time," Killian said. "I think I still have some of the old yearbooks from school with your dad in them. There are even the notes he wrote me. You might enjoy seeing those?"

Emma approached just as Henry pulled away from his sort of halfway hug with Killian. "You guys know how to make a girl feel special. Seriously though. I'm coming back."

"This is just to remind you what you have to come home to," he said. "I don't want you to forget."

"I won't," she said, capturing his hand with hers and swinging it between them. "My favorite jeans are in that loft. I'm not leaving them forever." She frowned. "Be careful, okay. I'll see you on the third, right?"

"Aye, I should be back by that morning. You take your exam and we'll be in each other's arms that evening." He'd already teased her earlier that he was not sure he could sleep alone and she had told him that maybe one of the passengers on the boat would want to cuddle with him.

"I'm counting on it," she said, wrinkling her nose. "Maybe the next one of these trips you take, I can go too."

"Of course," he said with a chuckle. "I'm not sure how much work I'd get done with you there to distract me."

"I'm sure you'd manage." She sighed again. "I guess Henry and I should get going."

They had already said their goodbyes that morning so when he pulled her to him and brushed his lips against hers it was just a sweet reminder of what was to come.

***AAA***

The streetlamps cast a yellowish glow over the street where Emma and Henry's apartment stood. She'd had a hard time finding a parking spot and then struggled to wake Henry up well enough to carry their bags to the apartment door where she found a note from Elsa telling her to call the moment she arrived. Emma texted her and then a quick text to Killian.

**Emma: We're here safe and sound. No need to worry.**

**Killian: Glad to hear it. How fast can you pack?**

**Emma: You're about to leave. Don't put pressure on me to pack fast when you wouldn't be there when I arrived.**

**Killian: Can't blame a man for trying. So are you going to tell me what you're wearing?**

**Emma: The same thing I was wearing when you saw me leave.**

**Killian: Have you checked your back pocket?**

**Emma: Seriously?**

**Killian: Yes, seriously. **

Rolling her eyes dramatically as if he could see her, she pulled out a folded sheet of paper. On it was a note from Killian. His handwriting a perfect study in script. She laughed as she unfolded it, but the laughter ceased with the words on the page that seemed to say more than she could ever imagine saying aloud.

**Emma: First, thank you for the note. Second, it was very sweet. Third, who writes like that? Your handwriting is so good. Did you have to do multiple drafts because who writes like that?**

**Killian: I can't tell if that is a compliment or not.**

**Emma: There are serial killers and people with OCD who are less anal.**

**Killian: And now you are returning my sentiments with poetic words. **

**Emma: Dork.**

She was touched by his note and placed the folded page under her pillow where she knew she would pull it out again before she went to sleep. Telling him that she was waiting on Elsa to call back, the two chatted for just a minute longer and then she returned to her planning state for the move. Despite his pending absence, she was in a hurry and wanted to finish up as soon as she could. The apartment was musty after two weeks of being locked up tight and the mail was overflowing. She threw it on the kitchen table and began to walk the space thinking of boxes she needed to procure and if she had enough items to sell or if she should just donate them. Henry was already playing his video games that he had missed. She even wondered if he was patting the box and telling them how much he missed them.

"You are totally deserting me and you still expect me to come help you pack," Elsa said tersely into the phone after she called. "You're not my favorite person."

"You know you could come with me. We could totally be Rachel and Monica on Friends. You could clean and I could pretend that I didn't know how to do anything."

"No," Elsa said with a sigh. "Even Rachel and Monica ended up moving out and moving on with their lives. I get it. He's hot. I'm just a friend…"

"Elsa…"

"What would I do in Maine?" the sounds of a busy restaurant were in the background and Emma could just imagine the annoyed looks that Will was probably shooting her at that moment for taking a call during a late dinner. "I'd be bored."

"You always complain about that," Emma reminded her. "Anyway. You don't have to help if you don't want. I can handle it."

"I'm not leaving you in a lurch just because you seem to be ignoring the first rule of spinsters' date club. Don't leave your friends behind for a guy no matter how hot he is."

Emma sank down onto her bed, laughing. "You do realize this isn't about him, right?"

"Where did you wake up this morning?"

"Touché."

Elsa sighed and then ordered another drink before she spoke into the phone again. "Alright. I'll be there in the morning. Call your man. I know you want to do it." Emma could practically hear the smirk through the phone.

"See you tomorrow."

**_Thanks for your reviews and comments!_**


	19. Chapter 19

**_A/N: This is a shorter chapter, but it is setting up a few things. I was able to get this done despite a busy day. No promises, but I'll try to update again soon. _**

She could hear his voice, the strained way he said her name. She could feel the rain on her face like tiny needles piercing her skin and the wind whipping everything into an unfathomable frenzy. Her heart were beating wildly against her ribcage and her breaths coming in short bursts as her fists balled up the worn floral sheets of her bed. Her eyes flew open the ceiling of her apartment, a familiar sight with its repaired water stains from a leaky pipe upstairs and the uneven paint job that she knew should have been fixed. It was illuminated by the small bedside table lamp that she had fallen asleep before turning out.

It wasn't like her to have nightmares, as she usually fell into dreamless slumber that was less fitful that most. Back in her foster care days she had been sent to a therapist who practically screamed in frustration that she had no memories of dreams. She eventually made up some wild and farfetched scenarios that she swore were the dramatic moments of her sleep.

She rolled over in the bed that even though Killian had never slept there seemed uncomfortably big and empty without his presence. Lying on her stomach, she buried her face in the pillow and told herself that dreams meant nothing. There was no proof to the idea that they could be prophetic or telling. He was fine. He was probably sleeping just like she was or should be. Her hand dug under the pillow and pulled out the folded piece of paper. His words seeming to calm her even just a little in the face of what had been a troubling dream.

"You'd laugh at me," she whispered into the mostly dark room. She turned back out the light and attempted to sleep, but the ease of her mind would not come.

This was a ridiculous way to be, she thought, hugging the pillow to herself. She had worried about Henry less when she was sending him to a three day camp away from her than she was about Killian. He was a grown man. She'd known him two weeks. This was ridiculous.

"You're insane," Elsa said the next morning when she arrived with iced coffees for them, a smoothie Henry and enough boxes to build a mountainous fort. "What exactly are you losing sleep over?"

"I told you it was stupid," Emma said, her voice muffled as she was half hidden under her bed trying to reach a lone shoe that had landed there somehow. "I don't have nightmares."

"Well," Elsa said, sipping with a straw and dropping stacks of t-shirts into a box with her other hand. "You clearly do so let's figure this out."

Emma emerged from under the bed with a red pump in one hand and a three year old magazine in the other. Dishelved and looking annoyed at her friend, she threw the items on the bed. "I'm sorry I even told you."

"I'm sure you are," Elsa said. "So where were you in this dream?"

"A boat," Emma answered, pursing her lips in displeasure. It made sense for her to dream about Killian on a boat. The man owned a boat. He worked on a boat. She'd spent time with him on a boat. Emma told Elsa as much.

"And was there anything different about the boat?" Elsa sounded quite formal and almost like a therapist herself. "Like if it was flying, that would mean you were dreaming about sex."

Emma grimaced, lifting the iced drink to her mouth and seeking out the green plastic straw. "Is everything about sex to you?" she hissed, shooting a glance at the partially closed door and thankful that Henry had his music on to pack up some of his bedroom.

"We're talking about your dreams, not mine."

"It's a nightmare, not a dream. And it's not about sex." Emma lifted her chin and stared defiantly at her blonde friend. The woman looked impeccable even in the soft linen pants and top that she wore in a light shade of blue. She always walked as if she were wearing a ball gown, elegant and regal.

"I'm just saying that many dreams…okay, fine, it's not about sex," she said, rolling her eyes. "Have you talked to him this morning? Did you tell him that you're freaking out over a dream about him?" She placed the almost empty cup on the dresser.

"Yes, I talked to him. No, I didn't tell him about the dream. I mean how would that conversation go? Honey, I know we've only known each other two weeks, but I'm clingy and desperate and need reassurance because I'm having dreams where I lose you and I don't think I could survive that if it really happened." She groaned as if in agony. "You know that would run him off."

"Well," Elsa said, running a finger along the perimeter of her lip. "I might go for something more subtle, but the blunt honest thing has worked for you in the past."

Emma grunted her reply and headed into her closet to make headway on packing there. "I invited you over for packing not advice."

"You owe me cocktails for the packing, but the advice is free." She finished sealing up that box and started on another. "If it makes you feel any better, I'm sort of moving for a man too."

Emma poked her head out of the small closet space and looked at her friend suspiciously. "If you tell me Will asked you to move in, I'm going to call foul and say that it isn't the same. He lives in the same neighborhood, not another state away."

Elsa kicked away a box with her sandaled foot. "I thought you weren't moving for a man," she said in a fake voice meant to mimic Emma's. "See, I have this thing called a lease on my apartment and well…I wasn't kidding about traveling. I'm headed out in about two weeks for the first part of my trip. And well…he suggested that it didn't make sense for me to keep paying rent when I'm going to be out traveling. So I sort of turned in my notice on my lease and have been moving my stuff to his place."

Emma laughed at the embarrassed look on her friend's face. "Elsa's admitting she's moving in with a man."

"You, Emma, are a horrible friend. You know what a big step this is for me and you are leaving me here with my sister alone to deal with it." She exaggerated her pout as she stood there with her arms over her chest. "My sister is more concerned with the comforter we're going to have on the bed and if we both can fit our furniture. She's not quite grasping that I'm freaking out here."

Emma crossed the room and drew her friend into a hug, a move that surprised both of them. "You do realize your sister is still stuck in 1952. She's probably going to want to compare apple pie recipes soon. Her housewarming gift for both of us is going to be an apron."

"You're right," Elsa declared, her eyes showing a bit more levity. "She's a total stepford wife. But she's cute and my sister. So I have to love her."

"Well, I think it is about time. You've been dating for a while now. And you've even started admitting that you're dating. We may have to break out the wine and toast your new living arrangements."

***AAA***

"That smile is both annoying, and given that I know what is causing it, obscene," David said as he approached Killian on his way to the boat. "Please tell me that the afterglow isn't still in effect because I may throw up."

"I'm not responsible for your weak stomach, mate. Though you could just call it sympathy for your wife's morning sickness," Killian teased back, tossing a package onto the boat and turning to face his friend. "Are you here to see me off, mate? Or am I supposed to guess about your intentions."

David rolled his shoulders back as if preparing for something. "I wanted to see you off, but I also wanted to check on you. We were all taking bets on you canceling this little job and how long it would take you to load up and go to get Emma and Henry."

Killian's tongue rested in a point at the corner of his mouth. "You think I'm that whipped? This is a paying job. And Emma and Henry are coming back. You are the one who bloody well rented her an apartment. You should know."

"That I do," David chuckled. "Anyway, back to the seeing you off part. Mary Margaret baked you muffins and Regina made some of that apple strudel thing. So I'm here as an official delivery man. Can't have you wasting away out there, though I know you'll do enough of the pining and writing sappy poems."

"Robin threatened me if I did that. He was convinced I had a sonnet or two up my sleeve with Emma's name on it."

David squinted in the morning sun and tilted his head to regard his friend more carefully. "I guess sonnets are a little less desperate than getting her name tattooed on your ass." Wrinkling his nose, he appraised the man before him. "You didn't do that, did you?"

"Is that what you did for your wife? Is there a little bird somewhere on you, mate, with her name? I doubt it. You would pass out from the pain of the needle."

David rolled his eyes and passed off the bag of goodies to his friend with a wink. "She's coming back in a week. Don't screw it up."

***AAA***

The apartment packing was moving along well when Elsa declared that it was time for a break. Ordering sushi and digging out a dusty bottle of wine that Emma had hidden away the two women munched in the living room of the soon to be empty apartment as Henry visited with a neighbor downstairs.

Emma's phone buzzed again and her smile told Elsa that it was clearly another message from Killian.

"Give that to me," Elsa said, reaching up to snatch the phone from her friend. "Doesn't he have a boat to captain or something?"

Emma tucked her chin near her chest and frowned. "He's about to get to where there isn't a good signal. He's just taking advantage of the time left."

"That's sweet," Elsa conceded. "And annoying. What is he writing you?" She held the phone out of reach and scrolled through the messages from the sweet ones, the remembrances and the ones that border on naughty. "I think I just went into overload."

Emma clutched her wine in her hand, hugging a pillow to her chest and letting the flush run over her as she heard her friend's running commentary. "You know," she said, when Elsa dropped the phone back on the couch between them. "I didn't do this to you. I've never…"

"Lack of imagination," Elsa declared. "And for the record I'm happy for you. I wonder what happened to my friend Emma, but I'm happy for you."

***AAA***

**Emma: Cuddling with any researchers or fishermen yet? **

**Killian: I didn't know you were the jealous type. I shall file that away for further exploration.**

**Emma: Dork. I miss you.**

She could see the three dots and felt that stomach clench that she had just been honest with him.

**Killian: I miss you too. What do you say that you, me, and Henry take a nice long sail before your job starts and school starts? Down the coast? Stop at a few out of the way spots?**

**Emma: I can't wait.**

His messages stopped by late afternoon, too far out to get a signal. While she felt a pang of regret, she had to admit that the lack of contact made it easier to pack. Elsa and Anna both found time to help her, giving her a chance to chat with them and enjoy their company. Henry was busy too, as he joined Kristof and Will at baseball games and made headway with packing and the reading list that Mary Margaret had given him.

Emma slept with her phone on the pillow next to her and when she woke from the recurring nightmare, she always checked it just in case she had missed a message. Then she would chastise herself for being such a sap and so desperate. She was glad that nobody saw her do that, especially Elsa who would have had a blast with the knowledge.

That night she did not seem to be able to get back to sleep and gave up to pad her way to the kitchen for a little something to help. She was surprised to find Henry already awake.

"What's going on?" she asked, nudging him to the side so that she might investigate the state of their refrigerator. It was pretty bare after two weeks and she had only bought the essentials to keep them nourished during the packing. She frowned, realizing someone had put the peanut butter in the refrigerator, one of her pet peeves. Grabbing a two frozen candy bars and the jar of cold peanut butter, she nudged her son to the lumpy but comfortable couch and sank next to him.

"I had a nightmare," he admitted. "I don't even remember it, but I woke up scared and I didn't really want to go back to sleep."

"Too many horror movies," she quipped, handing him the chocolate and letting him dip the unwrapped confection into the brown sweetness.

"Not hardly," he said, biting down and sighing in contentment. "I can't really remember it except I…"

"You used to like for me to rub your back to get you back to sleep. I did it constantly when you were a baby. I would lay down on the couch and you would lay on my chest and I'd rub in circles until you settled down and went to sleep. Even when you got to be a little boy, you'd beg me to do that."

Henry smiled. "It would have been easier if my dad was around more, wouldn't it?"

A thoughtful Emma placed a kiss to the top of her son's head. "Maybe," she admitted, "but I have to admit it was nice not sharing you. You were my little boy. I got to experience every first that you had. And as much as your dad loved you, he missed most of that. I'm sorry he did, but I'll never be sorry for the time we've had together."

Taking one of the tufted throw pillows and placing it on her legs, Henry laid out across it. "Will you rub my back again now?"

"Any time, kid," she said with a smile. "Any time." She starts with a large circle on his back, her fingers making more intricate loops as his muscles relax and his breathing shallows and then deepens. As she stares down at his brown hair all she can remember is the little boy with the lopsided grin and tears and laughs that echoed in her heart. She had never imagined loving anyone or anything, but becoming a mother gave her that opportunity to be more than just Emma. He hadn't cared that she never lived anywhere more than a few months. He didn't care about the time in jail. He didn't even care about the fact that she pushed people away as if it was a sport. He loved her and she loved him.

And maybe that was why she thought it was possible that maybe she could find it in herself to love again. She had said the words. Sometimes those words came easily like at the end of a phone conversation or echoing back someone's empty statement. But she knew she had never felt the all-encompassing and rich love that she had read about in books or seen in movies. She didn't know if she believed in it like Anna did. She wasn't as cynical as she could be, but it seemed farfetched to believe in soulmates and true love when she knew more about heartache than romance.

He's not that little boy any longer. He asks questions that are hard to answer. He doesn't have the hope and belief that he used to have, but sometimes he's still her little boy. And sometimes she's still the fragile but yet unbroken girl wanting to become the woman who can be his mother.

***AAA***

As Killian warned, his communication options were spotty. She would get a random text or photo from him. A picture of the star filled night sky with a request to name the constellations for him. A grilled cheese he had made and said he was thinking of her as he ate it. The pillow she had claimed as her pillow in his bed, empty and waiting for her to return to him.

Her texts back were more practical. She asked after him. She wanted to know about the weather. She'd heard a report of a cell of storms moving up the coast. Was he aware?

Emma got her next call from Killian on Thursday when he described the small port he'd docked at for the researchers to gather the rest of their equipment and meet up with the doctoral candidate who was joining them. She could practically hear his smile through the phone as he described the little seaside town and called it everything she had been saying about Storybrooke at first.

"I picked up a nice new piece of fishing gear for Henry," he said, the sharp wind making noises into the phone. "I thought he should have his own and there is a man here who makes some of the best."

"You didn't get me anything?" Emma laughed, feigning a disappointed.

"It wouldn't be a surprise if I told you, love," he teased. "And I hardly thought you would be satisfied with a fishing pole and some lures."

"You know me well for only two weeks." She sat down on the top step to her apartment building and watched Elsa and Will try to stack the boxes inside each other to carry in for her. She had abandoned them for a moment to take the call which had caused Will to act like a 10 year old making kissing noises toward his hand. She stuck her tongue out at him. "Besides I couldn't ask for a better gift than my magnet. It's perfect."

"You're that easy to please?" he chuckled. "You just get better and better."

"Shouldn't you be doing something like working? Raising a mast? Shivering some timbers or something?"

"You don't want to talk to me?" She could picture him pouting, the mirth in his eyes counterbalancing the protruding bottom lip. "And here I was trying to brighten your day with just the sound of my voice."

"Mission accomplished," she laughed, "but I don't want to keep you from working."

"We may be staying here tonight," he admitted reluctantly, a resigned sigh in his voice. "There's a squall that I'm a bit concerned about. It might delay some of the things these guys need to do, but I think it is for the best."

She nodded as though he could see her. "Better safe than sorry, right?"

"Of course, love."

**_Thoughts? _**


	20. Chapter 20

**_A/N: Sorry for the delay here. I've had a cold, an issue at my house, Patrick deciding his doesn't like sleep, my daughter deciding she doesn't like Patrick, and a husband who caught my cold and is whining like a baby himself. Just setting up a bit of the action to come. Don't worry though. We will get our happy ending._**

Elsa was the one to hand over the office keys to the landlord, rolling her eyes when he made comments that if she and Emma wanted they could make a deal for lower rent and open some other type of business. She and Emma had returned the leased equipment, sold the other smaller items, and boxed up the files for storage.

"I thought someday we'd be bought out by a bigger company, but dang," Elsa said, tapping her glass against Emma's. "I never thought it would go down like this."

Anna had invited the women over for a celebratory dinner and debriefing where they had sat awkwardly for 15 minutes until they began to regale each other with tales of funny take downs and drama on the job. The three had fallen into a state of giggles and half finished sentences as the sun fell in the sky and the rain clouds began to move in with vibrant colors against the sunset.

"I'm going to miss this," Anna said honestly. "I know we will stay in touch, but this is just feeling a little final."

"You could move with me," Emma suggested, only partially joking. "Kris could open a shop in Storybrooke. You would love it."

"Don't tempt me," the younger sister warned, looking at the closed door to the nursery. "We've been discussing suburban life since the schools are better and it would be nice to have a yard and a fence and maybe a dog." She had kicked off her shoes and was wiggling her freshly painted pink toes in the thick pile of the carpet. "Elsa wouldn't forgive me, but it could be great."

"You're right," Elsa said, holding her glass up regally and waving it a bit. "I wouldn't forgive you. Emma's already on probation with me."

Emma's eyes rolled dramatically. "Probation," she practically slurred. "You are the one who was encouraging me to forget about Walsh and boink Killian. You said forget my worries and go marry him."

Returning the eye roll, Elsa sneered playfully. "I was talking about Vegas and a quickie wedding. I thought you'd bring him here or just have a hot fling. I never expected…"

Anna laughed at the exchange. "She never expected you to actually fall in love with him," she finished. "You're always so careful about these things. You barely trust yourself, let alone other people. And…"

"I'm going to ignore the love comment for a minute and just ask why you're saying," Emma said, leaning forward awkwardly on a couch that gave new meaning to the word sinking, "that you thought I was too screwed up to actually do this? That you thought I'd always just be hanging out here and dating random guys…"

The sisters shared a look that only seemed to set Emma off in a steaming way. "You're not screwed up," Anna defended quickly. "It's just that you are clearly not a big fan of thinking about the future. That's not exactly a bad thing, but it is a thing. You..."

"You do realize that it is odd and maybe even a little insulting to have this conversation with me about my fears and my commitment issues when I've made the leap to start back to school, gotten a new job, started dating a guy, and have a moving van full of stuff ready to take my son and I to our new place. I'm okay here. I'm not freaking out. Pep talks are not needed at the moment." She smiled at the two sisters with their mouths open.

Anna regrouped first, shaking her head slightly and smiling. "Good point," she conceded. "We should talk about Elsa's problems."

The blonde sister made displeased face and waved her hand to dismiss the idea. "I don't have problems," she declared loudly and then threw her hand over her mouth at the sound. "I don't."

Anna smiled sympathetically. "We can start small," she said, reaching a hand out to pat Elsa's thigh. "For example, your feet."

"My feet?"

Emma bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing at the pure indignation steaming off of Elsa. It was quite a sight given that the usually stoic woman was turning colors with anger and trying not to kill her own sister.

"They are always so cold," Anna said, then looked at Emma to explain they had shared a room as children and she knew first hand. "You're going to run Will away unless you wear socks every night."

Elsa made a horrified grunt and slid her feet under the closest throw pillow on the couch. "Socks? That's your solution. What if I want to wear something sexy? You know some nice lacy lingerie. I'm supposed to look like a Victoria's Secret model for three fourths of my body and then wear tube socks on my feet? How is that any better than cold feet?"

***AAA***

David shook his wife's polka dotted umbrella and shot a quick glance at the street to see if anyone had seen him with the ultimately feminine accessory. In addition to its black background and white polka dots, it had two rows of ruffles and a giant red bow at the apex. When he had searched through both their master closet and the coat closet without success for his standard issue black umbrella, she had suggested he use hers. It also came with a matching coat and rain hat. He left before she was able to pull it from its hanger, unwilling to concede that much.

The phone was blinking with messages from the answering service and he set himself to listening to them after he hid the offensive umbrella. Most of the calls had been weather related, roads flooded and damage from high winds. It was not unusual, as storms along the coast were usually quite damaging. There was even a special line item in the budget to deal with infrastructure repairs due to the rain and wind. He'd resigned himself to the rants from residents that the weather forecasters had downplayed or overplayed the storm.

"It's a monsoon out there," Leroy bellowed as he pushed his way into the office with water dripping off every piece of fabric on him, including the hair of his beard. "Not fit for anyone but the ducks."

"Thanks for the report," David muttered, marking the map that he had installed behind a plastic sheet that allowed him to monitor the conditions. "I'll make a note of it."

Leroy grunted and headed toward one of the two cells and grabbed a jail issued blanket to use as a towel as David protested and then silenced himself. He threw the discarded blanket on the ground and watched the sheriff's face curiously. "Something wrong?"

David shook his head and tapped his pencil on the desk. "I'm just not liking this storm," he admitted. "Most of them roll through quickly."

The bearded man shrugged. "It's not that bad. Just some rain. It'll pass."

The sheriff pointed at the muted television in the corner that was flashing a weather radar with mostly reds and yellows. "It's surrounding us. I don't like the looks of that."

Again, the older man shrugged and looked toward the screen. "I've seen worse. I wanted to see if I could borrow your key to the storage unit again. I lost mine."

Pointing toward the set of keys on the desk, David rolled his eyes. "Silver one on the end, shorter than the rest."

It was Leroy's turn to roll his eyes, as his own lack of height had always been a bit of a running joke in town. Just the other night someone had asked him if needed a stepstool to get up to the bar at the Rabbit Hole. That had resulted in a sucker punch to someone's gut and that had resulted in Leroy spending the night in one of those now empty cells.

Leroy was partway out the door, holding a discarded newspaper from the recycling bin to use as cover since David would not loan him anything else, when the crackling voice of the radio came booming into the room. Both men stared at it as though a figure might emerge and give an image to the disembodied sound.

"What does that mean?" Leroy asked, his face pinched in worry that was not usually evident.

"A boat has been sending out distress calls, but there is no sign of the boat," David said, running a hand over his face. "Not a good thing, but the coast guard is planning to go out."

***AAA***

Not the sentimental type but practical enough to get out of the rain, Emma slid into the driver's seat of her yellow car without a longing look at the apartment building she had called home. There had been discussions about postponing the drive with the weather raging outside, but as she told Elsa that seemed impractical now that the truck was loaded and she was paying to rent it by the day. The cable television and power had been cut off and she was not about to spend days staring at the rain to stop so she could begin her life in Storybrooke.

She had not heard from Killian in two days, which meant he was busily finishing this chartered assignment and not holed up in some port somewhere. He'd spent one night in such a port, the two of them talking on the phone late into the night, sometimes just listening to the sound of each other rather than any of the words. It had been her idea to record messages for each other, which had surprised both of them with the sweetness of the gesture. She had listened to his voicemail for her at least a dozen times. She could practically imitate his voice and words now.

Pulling into traffic, she noticed her son had not picked up any of the sentimentality either. He did not even glance in the rearview mirror as they drove and even crossing the bridge did not seem to be a notable event to him. She watched him out of the corner of her eye, wanting to offer him some word of encouragement if he needed it. Behind them was the rented truck, driven by Will with Elsa in the passenger seat. If they survived the trip together, Emma was sure that their relationship could be categorized as solid. She knew that Elsa was already typing things into the GPS and probably arguing with the technology over the best route.

"I'm not letting you go alone," Elsa had insisted. "My plane doesn't take off for five more days. I can take this little trip. I'll see you get settled. And then I'll know my way there when this all goes badly and I have to show up on your doorstep."

"I thought you were convinced that I'm doing the right thing to trust Killian," Emma said, peering at her friend in confusion.

"I'm talking about me and Will," Elsa had sighed dramatically throwing her hair over her shoulder. "You know we'll get on each other's nerves. There will be some dramatic argument and I'll drive all night to be at your side because my sister won't get it."

That had been one less goodbye to say, as at least it was postponed. It was hard enough to say goodbye to Anna. The woman had cried and hugged her so tightly that Emma had been sure that there were probably imprints. The whole time she had been whispering in Emma's ear that she knew she was going to go. "You are bigger and better than this," Anna had said, kissing her cheek as she pulled away. "You deserve so much more and I hope that now you're going to get that."

From the car she saw Anna readjust the weight of her baby in her arms and then wave, her rust colored hair pulled back from her face in a series of braids that knot in the back. She had always been better friends with Elsa, but Anna was a good person who she cared about deeply. The two of them had shared many moments over the past couple of years and she had been her go to person about anything emotional or when she needed a sounding board for something to do with Henry. It had been Anna who had convinced her to talk to Neal, allow him to be a father. Anna had stayed the night when Emma was so sick she could not lift her head off the pillow. Somewhere inside she wondered if it would ever be the same. Would they stop confiding in each other? Would they just become names on a list at Christmas for cards or obligatory invitations to weddings and graduations? The tears pricked at her eyes as she considered this, realizing that leaving for her new life meant leaving people not just a place.

"It's letting up a little," Henry said, breaking her from the thoughts. "Maybe it's sunny in Storybrooke."

His optimism was a bit childish given the weather reports, but Emma appreciated the disposition on a day like what she was facing. "Maybe, kid." Squeezing his arm with her hand, she smiled. "Next stop lunch."

***AAA***

"Is he going to be okay?" Mary Margaret asked her husband over the phone as he pushed through the double doors and into the waiting area where he had been told to sit. "They found him in time, right?"

William Smee had very few actual injuries from his boat capsizing in the storm, but he had been out in the water for a little too long for the doctors' liking. He was currently in a hospital bed with the curtain drawn around him, his voice echoing as he regaled the nurses with his tales of being lost at sea. David had wanted to point out that he had been lost for three hours max and turned out to be only feet away from the shore, but he was letting the man have his moment.

"Sounds like it," David said somewhat distractedly as he watched the victim of a car accident from hydroplaning arrive via ambulance. "I will let you know if I hear anything."

Mary Margaret's quick smack of her lips told him that he was in for a tough question. "I know it's bad out there," she said beginning the subject carefully. "You have heard from Killian, right?"

"Last night or maybe the night before," David said, nodding toward the EMT who wanted to share something with him. "I don't remember, honey. I've got to run. I'm sure that Killian isn't dumb enough to continue out in this weather. He'll just extend his trip. I'm sure of it."

He disconnected the call and frowned at the report being waved in front of him.

"It's suicide city out there," the man said. "There are places on the road with more than a foot of water. It's not fit for man or beast."

"I'm going to call into the radio station and see if they'll put out another warning. We need people out in this like we need a hole in the head." He grumbled as he walked down the corridor for a bit more privacy. Regina had yet to fill the vacancy of emergency preparedness director and so all such duties were falling to him while she stayed home with Roland who was running some sort of fever.

He was about to place a call to the one radio station in Storybrooke when his phone buzzed in his hand. It should not have shocked him, as half the residents had his private number and called it for any number of reasons. Looking down, he saw the increasingly familiar number of Emma Swan.

"Don't tell me you're actually trying to move in this weather," he said, foregoing the customary hello greeting. "It's horrible out there."

She gave him the explanation that her apartment was vacant now and she was making her way up to them. "We'll do what we can. I'll be safe."

"Well," David said reluctantly. "I can't say much. It's not like I'm your father to offer advice, but be careful. Don't rush. The standing water on the road is deadly and with that wind and the clouds visibility sucks, for lack of a better word." He offered a few more words of advice about the traction of her tires and the speed of her windshield wipers before he hung up.

***AAA***

Killian lifted the tarp and peered into the stack of equipment for his tool box. The research team had been holed up on the boat for two days now to wait out the storm. Even docked, the boat was taking a battering from the wind and driving rain that seemed to be endless. The four men had been anxious before and were even more so with the delay, added in with Killian's impatience to get things going.

Passing two of the men in the galley, Killian dropped to his knees to get under the sink with the wrench he had managed to grab despite the incessant knocking and rocking about of the boat. The leaking pipe was such a minor thing, but it was something he could solve and accomplish. He felt so helpless in the situation, as he knew the delays were only making him that much later in getting on with his life with Emma. He wanted to be back. He wanted to forget these stupid experiments over the temperature of the water and the state of the coastlines. He wanted to have Emma back in his arms and to know that they weren't dealing with dwindling days before she left.

He'd already tried texting her three times that morning, but error messages were all that he seemed to get. Being the sap that he was, he'd listened to the voicemail that she had left for him more than a few times. Her voice that usually was so steady or only hinted at the emotion within was sweetly telling him hello and that she missed him. Her words sparked to mind her mouth and smile that he hoped he might never burn out of his mind. She was everything he had ever wanted and everything that he had dreamed of, but still there was something so earthly real about her that it felt more than any dream.

The radio on the control panel crackled and chirped to life, causing Killian to unfold himself from the crouched position. He conversed with the coast guard official and sighed in annoyance and resignation as he turned away from the panel back to the two men playing cards at the table. "Looks like we've got another delay."

The older of the two men shrugged. "It's not that bad of a place to be stuck. Maybe we should walk into town and grab some food before dark tonight. I'd kill for a good steak."

Killian offered a weak smile in return. "There is a bit more of a serious issue," he said, leaning against the paneled wall and folding his arms over his chest. "The local guys are having a hard time keeping up with all the demand. Seems there is an island not far from here and the powers out, infrastructure is shot and the decision has been made to evacuate the residents. They are asking anyone with experience in search and rescue to volunteer while the Coast Guard takes on some of the more dire cases."

"And they want you to volunteer?" the man surmised, nodding his head in agreement with his own analysis.

"Aye," Killian said. "We can't continue toward Halifax in weather like this so it wouldn't be too much of a burden. You guys could stay here on the boat or we can see about getting you rooms if any are available."

The younger man looked hesitantly at the television that had a rolling picture on the screen of the weather maps. "Are you sure it is even safe for you to be out there rescuing people? Look at that radar and the waves are huge. You could…"

"It's hardly going to be a pleasure cruise, but those people need to be brought to safety. It is the least I can do."


	21. Chapter 21

Mary Margaret was a wizard with a mop, at least that was what Elsa told her during the teacher's fifth pass through the loft with her sponge tool. The brunette followed Will, Leroy, and Philip on each of their trips in with furniture and boxes, mopping up the rainwater that dripped into large, slick puddles on the newly refinished floors. She was determined to keep the floors clear, a self-imposed job, and she echoed Emma's orders about where things were to go.

"She's sweet," Elsa said, the word sweet coming out a little as a struggle. "She's totally a teacher type."

"She is a teacher," Emma said, smiling as Mary Margaret frowned her disapproval at Leroy's muddy shoes. The woman said nothing, but gruff and grumbling Leroy immediately set down the boxes he was carrying and removed the work boots he had been wearing. "And she's really a smart and dedicated woman. I've been impressed…"

Elsa was not listening to her, smiling at Will and handing Henry a bottle of water from the cooler they had been carrying. "I get it. She'll be your new friend. She'll be the one."

"The one what?" Emma asked, confusion on her smudged and tired face. "Seriously? What's the problem?"

Sighing, Elsa leaned her hip against the counter. "She's going to take my place. And yes, I realize that I sound like a four year old arguing about who is best friends with whom in preschool."

"Nobody's taking your place, Elsa," Emma reassured her, throwing an arm around her and squeezing. "You are one of a kind. I can't replace you."

The corners of Elsa's mouth turned upward into a smile. "Of course you can't," she smirked gleefully, "but it feels better to hear you say it."

Emma tried her best to stay current in the conversations around the crowded loft apartment. But she could not miss the weather reports that played in the background. She was worried, her eyes turning to the cloud covered skies and each time some new bulletin appeared on the screen, she stopped her activities to watch with apprehensive eyes.

Mary Margaret and Elsa both took turns reassuring her in private, knowing she did not intend to let the world in on her state. They would squeeze her shoulder or point out that no news was good news. They did not even tease her when she checked her phone or tried to place a call that did not go through.

The furniture from Emma and Henry's apartment was modern and somewhat mismatched. The rooms are soon filled with their belongings and boxes are started to be opened when Emma's stomach growls loudly and everyone laughs at her embarrassed look as she collapsed into giggles in a pile of bedding. "I guess that's a sign I owe everyone dinner," she announced. The kitchen is not stocked yet, though Mary Margaret and Ashley were lining the shelves and sorting through silverware and dishes. She was eternally grateful that they didn't notice she had an eight place setting made up of two different patterns.

"Granny's?" she asked the group and those from Storybrooke began to shout out their orders. Elsa and Will looked a bit confused. Emma laughed and walked toward the refrigerator where she knew a magnetic notepad was waiting for her to fill in with orders. Her fingers brushed against it as she saw the magnet Killian had given her. A folded slip of paper underneath caught her eye. She knew it was from him, a note for her to find because he couldn't be there. While Elsa caught her eye, she stuffed the page into her pocket to read at a more private moment.

***AAA***

David was grateful that Robin had agreed to come in and help him out with the numerous traffic accidents, stranded residents, and emergent flooding issues. Even Granny had called to request assistance when a stopped up storm drain behind the building threatened to cause a flood that would have ruined her storage room. Robin and his friend John had cleared it for her and been promised a free dinner for their troubles.

He must have heard from each and every resident still in town, he surmised. Even Belle Gold had called him when she had accidentally left the lights on in her husband's Cadillac, running down the battery and stranding herself. Didn't most cars have safety measures to prevent that? He thought they did anyway.

"Are you busy?" his wife asked, calling to check in that evening. "I know you are. That was a stupid question. I guess I meant to ask if you had a moment to talk."

"For you I can make time for two minutes," he said with a weak laugh. He collapsed into his desk chair and ran his hand over the top of his head in an attempt to smooth his hair from his earlier frustrated gestures. "What's going on? Did Emma make it in?"

"She's fine and so is Henry. We've got all their stuff moved in and she's on her way with a friend to pick up dinner at Granny's. She said to ask you if you'd eaten. She'll pick you up something if you like."

David smiled, as his new employee was already making headway into remaining valuable. "Tell her thanks, but I believe Robin is bringing me back a hamburger or a sandwich or something."

"Anything from Killian?" she asked him, her voice a hint of a whisper so as not to be overheard. "I thought that he might…"

"No," David said quickly. "That town he was headed for when we last talked is pretty remote. I doubt he has more than radio communication there. If something was wrong, we'd have heard." He tapped his left hand on the desk, his wedding ring pinging on the corner. "Is there something that you think is wrong? Some reason?"

Her frown was evident even through the phone. "I just can't shake the feeling that he's going to do something stupid in order to get back here faster. I don't know why it is. I'll just feel better when you talk to him."

"I have a feeling Emma will hear before…"

"She hasn't," Mary Margaret said, her voice shaking. "She's not making a big deal about it, but there are clearly some worried people here. We've got a horrible storm and weather reports that are scary as I've ever seen. The footage from the stations up and down the coast is showing waves that could topple houses let alone boats. It's crazy. And I can see it on her face every time they interview someone. She's checking her phone when she thinks nobody is looking. It's sad. I want to do something, but until we know he is okay, I don't think I can do enough."

"Honey, this is ridiculous," David told her, swallowing hard. "He's not even late coming back yet and you're acting like I should call in the National Guard. Calm down. He's probably fine. I know you love to worry, but don't put that on Emma. He's doing a job. He'll be back sooner rather than later."

***AAA***

Will leaned forward in the seat of Emma's car and peered at the buildings down the main street of Storybrooke. He nodded and grunted approvingly as they passed the familiar shops that were doing a lighter than normal business on such a stormy day. "It's like out of a book," he muttered as she expertly parked the car in front of the drenched patio at Granny's.

"It takes some getting used to," Emma admitted, pulling the hood of her jacket up over her damp blonde hair. "It's pretty wild just how out of date some of the technology is around here."

He nodded, his hand on the door handle and waiting for her signal to run into the diner with the florescent and neon signs. "Elsa mentioned something about flip phones."

"You get used to it, I guess," Emma said. "Just like you get used to the quiet and the people."

He nodded again. "It doesn't seem too bad. I have seen worse and lived in worse. Plus, you just pulled up in front of a restaurant during the dinner rush. It's bloody amazing that you could get such a parking spot."

Emma agreed and gave him the signal to run for the door of the diner, dodging oversized puddles and giving into the fact that the rain was going to soak them. She did her best imitation of a soaked dog, shaking the excess water onto the overlapping anti-skid rugs that Granny and Ruby had placed by the door. Her hair was curling wildly in the weather, hanging damply over the shoulders of the faded t-shirt she wore.

"Mary Margaret already called in your orders," Granny declared, looking warmly at Emma but avoiding a wet hug by stepping behind the counter. "Should be ready in a minute."

Emma thanked her and bounced in place rubbing her arms as the blast of air conditioning about froze her. Will was darting his eyes around the room and taking in the less than modern décor, including posters and signs of items they did not even sell and prices that were from decades before then.

"Is this place for real?" he asked, stage whispering as he cupped a hand over his mouth. "It's great, but this is insane."

"Wait until…" she broke off as Ruby rounded out of the kitchen door and dodged her grandmother on her way to hug Emma. The statuesque woman was wearing a red skirt that did not even come to mid-thigh and a white uniform shirt that had been rolled and tied just under her bra, which was a lacey red that peeked out from the white material. Her eyes were darkly made up and her lips the same shade of red as the streaks in her hair. She was striking even without the outfit, but with it she had Will and Emma both staring in a mixture of shock and surprise.

"Will," Emma said after she regained her balance from a bear hug, "this is my friend Ruby. Ruby, this is Will. He's the one who is dating my friend Elsa." It was code for Ruby to back away, which she did, winking at Emma.

"I know Killian is over the moon that you're back in town," she said throwing condiment packets, plastic cutlery and enough napkins to wallpaper the loft into a bag. "Is he back yet? He hasn't been in for his usual."

"Not yet," Emma said, unsure if the woman heard her as she listed all the local gossip from the past week or so that Emma had been gone. Will seemed to be in shock at the woman and took a seat at one of the empty tables while they waited.

"Will!" A thickly accented voice called out his name and made both Emma and Ruby turn to see what was going on in the small diner. "I never thought I'd see you here."

Emma's jaw dropped as Robin, who she had only seen affectionate in the way of Regina, hugged a startled and half standing Will. The two men smiled awkwardly at each other and then hugged again before turned slightly to face a gaping Emma. "I take it you know each other," she said with a quiet laugh. "I thought you hadn't been here before, Will?"

"I haven't," he said, coughing a bit as Robin gave him a good natured slap on the back. "I've known this man here since I was a kid though. Our parents…well, our parents were good friends. We spent a few summers together and a couple of semesters in college."

"He was the best man at my first wedding," Robin said, shaking his head in disbelief. "Now what are you doing here, mate? I haven't seen you in three years?"

***AAA***

The first night in the loft was quiet after most of the people had left. Will had taken up residence on the couch, quietly thumbing through a book he had found while helping Emma unpack. Henry was in his bed upstairs, still fighting the good fight about why the computer should be in his room rather than in the living room like his mother had insisted. Elsa had declared that she was sharing a bed with Emma so that they could continue their girl talk.

Emma came into the dimly lit bedroom after brushing her teeth and found a fresh faced Elsa sitting on the bed with her feet wrapped in the nightgown she wore. She smiled expectantly at her friend and pointed with her chin to the folded paper on the bedside table. "So I didn't try and embarrass you by asking what was with the note, but you know I'm dying here."

Lifting herself onto the bed and wondering why she had chosen the pillow top mattress that made it feel like she had to climb into bed, Emma handed the folded page to her friend. "You know I don't share, but I'm trying here."

With a grateful smile, Elsa unfolded it and read the simple message with a smile. "And here I thought it was one of two things. Either he was declaring his undying love or it was a break up letter. Since you hadn't bothered to kill anyone I was going with the declaration."

Emma ripped it from her hands and stared at the scrawled message on the yellow paper. "Welcome Home. Love, Killian." It was only four words, but she had more emotion for those four words than most. He knew that she put a lot of stock in the word home, more than most people. And for him to welcome her to her new home seemed a wonderful gesture for a man who was trying so hard not to trigger any of her running away thoughts. "It's…"

"It's a sign that he knows you well already," Elsa said nodding. "And a sign that I have a very lucky friend."

Drawing a shaking breath, Emma folded the paper back and placed it between her clock and phone. "I haven't heard from him today either," she said softly. "My head knows that the connectivity is spotty. And that it is better that he is in one place and safe than battling the storm so he can get here faster."

"But your heart would feel better if he called or texted," Elsa supplied as Emma pushed her legs under the covers. "I get it. Anyone would want to know the love of their life was safe." She pulled her long blonde hair over her shoulder and began absently braiding the thick mass. It was a nighttime ritual that she had had since she was a small child. Emma had never known Elsa to answer the door in the middle of the night without her signature braid.

"Nobody said he was the love of my life, Elsa." Emma stared up at the ceiling with her head cradled by the down pillow. "I just miss him and am a little anxious for this life to start. I still deny that he was the only reason for this move, but I'm not a good enough liar to say he didn't factor into my decision at all."

"You know," Elsa said, leaning forward a little so that she could essentially whisper, "it's okay for you to be a little freaked out. You haven't heard from him. And I don't think his friends have either."

"I don't know if that makes me feel better or not," Emma said, her voice tight and her eyes closed momentarily. "What if…"

"Don't," Elsa warned. "Don't start playing the what if game. You're neurotic enough without that. And he's…he's fine. I know it. I can feel it." She smiled as reassuringly as she could.

"How do you know that?" Emma asked. "I don't even know that."

"Maybe I'm psychic," Elsa said, then dropped her voice into a mysterious tone. "I see great things for you, Emma Swan. This town will bring you love, friendship, and family. I just know it will be a great home. And I see many a romantic adventure for you and a guy with a boat." She winked. "And plenty of visits from her friends."

"Thank you," Emma said, finally shifting her gaze from the ceiling. "You know you could have been really down on me about this. You could have told me that I was too old to go back to school. You could have said something awful about my meeting a guy and how he probably had ulterior motives."

"I could have," Elsa agreed, falling backward onto the other pillow. "But I'm not down on you. I think you're being incredibly brave and selfless. I think you're a freaking rock star to go back to school on the money you forced that creepy stalker to give us for our company. Who does that? I'll tell you, who. Strong willed people like you. And as for Killian. I don't really know him yet, but I can tell that you like him. And if you like him and already trust him then I'm sure he's the real deal. I may tease you, but I've seen how crazy you are about him. I trust you. And if he's got you blushing over four word notes, giggling over texts and phone calls when you think we're not watching, and counting down the days until he's back here, I'd say the man is clearly your type.

"It's not too desperate or clingy?"

"You do realize that being worried and even a little clingy just makes you human, right? It's not a weakness. It's a sign that you like him. And damn it, Emma, it's about time that you liked a guy for him and not just because he was a good match on paper or he was what you were supposed to like. You do realize that you're a single mom and not dead, right? Live a little. And be sure to call and text me all the details because I totally need a little of that romance in my life."

***AAA***

As most things do, the storm had moved past and left everything a little wetter and more weathered, but still standing in its wake. The storm had moved to the northeast and was still battering some of the coastline, but Storybrooke had survived another siege from Mother Nature. David actually managed to nap on the couch at the station and brushed off Emma's offers to go ahead and start.

"You have your test and Henry," he reminded her. "Plus, Killian will be back soon and I'm sure he intends to entertain you before you start to work and school."

Emma had frowned at that statement, as communication had yet to resume. The excuses and reasons flew through her head, as did the possibilities. He's busy, she would think one moment. The next she would think that he had second thoughts about whatever was going on between them. Then she would think something had happened, something horrible that nobody had told her about yet. The only conclusion she could clearly jump to was that she was paranoid.

With only one day to go before the placement exam, Emma's kitchen table looked like she had been studying for months. Elsa and Will had taken Henry for a tour of the town, allowing the boy to show them all the places that he liked before joining Robin, Regina, and Roland for some dinner. She was not a big fan of cramming for a test, especially one where studying wasn't even a guaranteed help. However, Mary Margaret had shown up that morning with text books, notepads, pencils, pens, and highlighters.

"I can't imagine you've had much use for the algebra and geometry you knew, let alone the rest of the stuff. So I'm going to offer my tutoring services here." Emma had practically thrown her arms around the pixie of a brunette, not for the tutoring services but the distraction from her own thoughts.

Mary Margaret taught Emma her favorite technique of studying and placed a chocolate candy on every fifth practice problem as an incentive for working through the set. There was an easiness to her style though she clearly took nothing off of her students.

"I'm glad that Henry's going to have you as a teacher," Emma said when she got to one of the chocolate reward problems. "Believe it or not, the school is one of the reasons I'm glad we moved here."

The teacher smiled companionably as she rested her chin on her folded hands. "He's going to do great. I could tell from those two weeks that he really loves to learn and he's got a mind that is just ripe for everything."

"I think he must get that from Neal," Emma said as she stared at the problem and felt her head swim. "I am not quite that studious."

Mary Margaret tilted her head to look carefully at the problem. "I think that your issue is self confidence," she explained. "You've done this kind of problem before. It's just looking a little different. What do we do first?"

Normally Emma would have rolled her eyes at the word we, as it wasn't a group effort at all. She was the one taking the test and not Mary Margaret, Henry, Elsa, or even Killian. "I guess I need to get rid of the fractions."

The teacher's face lit up. "That's right," she said. "Now just keep in mind that what you do to one side of the equation, you must do to the other."

The sun had already set by the time they worked their way through the last of the problems and added to the school supplies on the table was an empty pizza box. Emma pushed the book to the center of the table and smiled. "I really do appreciate this Mary Margaret," she said, bracing her hands on the edge of the table. "It's been a while since I've even taken a test like this." Her index finger traced a faint crack in the wood of her table. "And with everything going on, I'm not sure how well I can concentrate."

"You're going to do fine, but you can't psych yourself out over it. I always tell my students the same thing. Take the test one question at a time. No need in rushing through it or worrying about what comes next. You'll do fine."

"Sounds like some good advice" Emma finished off the last of the water in her bottle. "I should employ that in more areas of my life."

***AAA***

The morning light shown on the town of Storybrooke like there had never been a storm at all David just switched the phone calls over from the answering service when the out of date and old fashioned phone on his desk jangled to life. His hand jerked out to grab it, knowing that he was pretty much caught at this point. "Nolan here," he said after the standard greeting.

"David?" the voice said. "This is Weis over here at Paides Pointe. We've had some weather trouble lately."

"Join the club," David said, throwing a glance at one of the maps on the wall. "I think most of the coast is still bailing out from all that rain."

"I suppose so," Weis said with a humorless laugh. "I know you're probably busy as the rest of us right now, but I thought I should let you know. We had a group of volunteers go out to help evacuate a few families out on the island yesterday. I don't know all the details yet, but there was some trouble. Not everyone made it back."

"I hate to hear that," David answered, unsure why the man who he had only met at a few state law enforcement functions was even bothering to call. This was an issue better suited for the list serv or something less personal than a phone call.

"Yes, well, thank you," the man said, hesitating. "The thing is that one of the men who was out there was from Storybrooke. A Killian Jones."

David felt his stomach drop. "Killian? He's…"

"It's bad, David," the man said, interrupting. "If he's got family in the area, I'd suggest you call them in."

**_A/N: Don't hate me. I still promise a happy ending here. Just adding a little drama for spice. _**


	22. Chapter 22

**_A/N: Your reaction to Killian being in danger has been overwhelming. I'm glad I could get such a response. Here is another chapter. Just remember, I believe in happy endings and my name is not Nicholas Sparks. _**

**_Previous chapters: _**_**AO3**_******_and _******

The loft smelled of breakfast from an early morning delivery by Ruby, but most of the food had been eaten and everyone was busy with their respective jobs. Elsa was struggling with the stubborn folding door on the utility closet that refused to stay up when the knocking sound started. She exhaled sharply in an attempt to push back her hair that had escaped and fell in front of her face as she waited to hear if Henry or Will were going to run to the door.

"Oh please," she said with a note of sarcasm in her voice. "Let me."

She stomped toward the wooden door slowly and deliberately on her hard soled shoes, her steps heavy to emphasize how this should not be her responsibility. Neither of the two males even noticed or cared, which seemed to only fuel her passive aggressive slowness to answer the door.

"Emma hasn't been answering her phone," David said, not even totally sure who the woman in front of him was or why she was answering the door. He could have assumed she was Elsa, as who else could she be, but the questions of identity didn't seem that important at the moment. "Is she here?"

Elsa was a bit more concerned with identity and narrowed her eyes to his badge on his hip and the gun holster around his shoulders. "She's not here at the moment," Elsa said, drawing out her words. "I'm assuming you're the sheriff?"

He stuck a hand out toward her. "David Nolan."

"Elsa," she responded. "Emma's at her test this morning. I guess it's going to be about noon or so before she's finished and back here sometime after that." Elsa frowned. "Something's wrong?"

His foot tapped involuntarily on the hard floor and he bit his lip as he looked back down the stairs. "I need to talk to her as soon as possible," he said. "I don't suppose…"

Elsa called out to the guys that she was leaving and headed down the stairs. "You drive and we'll go pick her up. You can explain on the way."

***AAA***

Emma tapped her pencil on the desk and waded through the next problem on the computer screen. Her tongue darted out and tasted the coffee still on her lips. She was not sure just how she was doing or even if she had answered anything correctly, but she was making progress through the test. She had used the ear plugs they had provided her and attempted to block out all the thoughts that kept racing through her mind.

It was easy to let her mind wander as it was finally July 3, the day that she had mentally marked on her calendar. Henry had only mentioned it twice at dinner the night before. Even he was excited that their lives seemed to be gaining more permanence now. He talked about the weekly youth reading group that Belle wanted him to join and the video game tournaments that someone was organizing at the recreation center. She also had seen the smile on his face when he saw their name on the mailbox downstairs from the loft. They had never done that before, put up a more than temporary identification of their location.

And of course her mind wandered to Killian. He had more than a few plans for their evening. "We'll start the fireworks early," had been one of his texts before the silence set in between them. And despite common sense telling her that he had been delayed because of the weather, a part of her hoped that she would be in his arms soon. It would be just like him to meet her outside after her tests were over, that lopsided smirk and his cocky lean against her car. He was still surprising her, even at his distance. He had arranged breakfast for her with a note that he had written and given to Ruby before he'd set sail.

_My Emma,_

_Your mind is probably full of equations and formulas, grammatical rules and famous writers, but spare a thought for me as you enjoy this breakfast. I shall see you very soon and we will celebrate your academic achievement. _

_Love,_

_Killian_

Despite the distance and circumstances, she could not help but think how wonderful it was that he had thought to set up such a surprise for her even in his last minute preparations. To say she wasn't used to someone putting her first was an understatement, but she was learning to accept his gifts and gestures as something he wanted to do. She wanted to learn to reciprocate and not flinch at the attention. But for now she had a test to take. She shook her head and went back to the next problem, scribbling down notes and working through some of the tougher equations. By the time she had answered the last of them, she just shrugged her shoulders at the proctor and signed out of the room.

Her eyes squinted in the sunlight as she dug through her bag for her sunglasses. Sliding them onto her face, she tried to temper her disappointment that Killian was not there by her car in what even she had to admit would have been a completely romantic comedy trope. Keys in her hand, she started down the stairs when she heard Elsa's voice.

"Something's wrong," she said in a flat emotionless tone as she shifted her gaze from her friend to David and back again. "Did something happen with Mr. Gold?"

Elsa's head shook, letting the realization sink over Emma as David said Killian's name. Pulling Emma's hands to into her own, she nodded at the truck that David drove. "Someone's going to come pick up your car and take it back to Storybrooke. We're going to ride with David."

David was clearly waiting on Emma to break down, show some sort of fear, freak out, or just cry, but she didn't. The picture of calmness, she gripped Elsa's arm as she climbed into the truck and let her friend sit beside her. "Is he okay?" she finally asked when the truck engine roared to life and they began to drive down the hill of the parking lot toward the road. "Just tell me."

"They asked that we come as soon as possible," David said, hiding none of the truth from Emma.

David's nonstop chattering helped nothing in terms of Emma's nerves as he drove the narrow two-lane road from Storybrooke northward to the Pointe. It was not exactly an easy conversation, but he seemed to think it necessary. Elsa chimed in from time to time and offered a few suggestions, but for the most part remained silent and stared out of the passenger window listlessly.

"You know that my family used to be farmers," he said at one point. "They were simple but proud people and enjoyed living off the land. I grew up like that for part of my life. I don't have a green thumb though. My wife is great with anything in nature, but I could kill a cactus with my lack of skill in that area."

Emma's hands were wrapped securely around the strap of her seatbelt. "You don't have to do this," she told him. "You don't have to tell me stories to keep me calm." She had shrunk into the seat of the truck, her head low against the backrest.

"Maybe it is keeping me calm," he said with a nervous laugh. "I'm sorry. I don't quite know what to say or do in this situation. I don't even know what the situation is, to be honest."

Emma gripped the strap a little tighter. "What did the person say?"

David cleared his throat, emotionally blinking as he did. "The rescue teams were using small motor boats to bring people from the island back onto the mainland," he said. "Killian was on one that capsized, but other than that I haven't been told much. They just asked that we get there as soon as we could."

There was a low moan as Emma processed that bit of information. She seemed to be swallowing back tears though she could feel Elsa and David looking at her expectantly. She wanted to scream at them that she was fine, but she knew she wasn't. They knew it too.

It took more than four hours before they were pulling into the parking lot at the hospital. Even with answers to questions just feet away from her, Emma had a strong need to fold her arms, dig in her feet, and refuse to walk into the building. She wanted to pretend this wasn't happening. She wanted to be any place other than standing in front of that building.

David reached over and placed his hand under Emma's elbow. "We have to go in," he said, gently tugging her along. She made it two steps before she wrenched her arm away and spun back to the lines of cars.

"I can't do this," she declared. Just in case they hadn't heard her, she repeated it again. "I can't."

Elsa held her hand up to David in an effort to silence him and then placed her hand on the center of Emma's back. "Emma," she said firmly. "I know you're scared. Hell, I'm scared right now. But standing here isn't going to get you any answers. And living in denial isn't either. So we're going to walk in there and find out what's going on right now. You're going to be strong and brave and everything that Killian loves about you. You're going to be fine. I know it doesn't feel…"

"Don't give me a pep talk," Emma said, her fingers digging into her palm. "This isn't me agreeing to a date or deciding that I'm willing to take a chance. He's in there. He could be…" She was not sobbing, but the fat tears began to roll down her cheeks.

David cleared his throat again. "Emma, we have to know what happened. We have to…We have to do what we can to help him. You may have just met him, but Emma he cares so much about you. I know that you being here is going to help. It has to because I can't accept that it won't. So I don't know what it's going to take to get you to turn around and walk in there, but I've not got enough time to figure this out. So I'm walking in and Elsa is going to walk with me. I am not going to ask you again, but I know that when we walk through those double doors that you're going to be right between us. And it's going to be okay."

***AAA***

"I don't understand," David repeated, a little slower and a little louder than he had said it before. "You said that he was here and that his family needed to come to the hospital."

Weiss was a short man, slightly paunchy with thinning red hair and almost yellow eyes. His thick fingers ran through the strands as if trying to tame them and encourage them to stay attached to his scalp. "There were six people pulled from the water."

"And that doesn't answer my question," David said, slamming a palm on the counter where the nurses sat. The lone nurse who was not seeing to patients at the moment cowered and looked toward the two blonde women for support. However, the stern look in Elsa's eyes said enough to send her to check on a patient.

"David," Elsa said, her hands wrapped around Emma's arm. "Let me try, okay?" She turned a defiant gaze toward the older law enforcement officer. "You called us in here acting like Killian Jones was lying in one of these overpriced beds on the brink of death. Now you tell us that you simply found his identification floating among the bags of other people and you have no way of knowing where he is right now? Do you realize…" She squeezed Emma's arm. "No, I'm not asking that. I'm asking you to figure out where the hell Killian Jones is right now."

"You don't understand," Weiss said, stepping backwards as though a little distance might defuse the situation. "I am not even sure how many people are missing right now. There are whole areas of town that we can't get to because the water washed out bridges. Electrical lines are down. They only now just got it back up at the hospital. It's practically Armageddon out there."

"And we just drove four hours because you thought that man," Elsa pointed at the room with the partially closed door, "was Killian Jones. I've never even met Killian Jones, but I can tell based on that man and the photo identification that you found that they aren't the same. A four year old with a spot the difference game could do a better job of making an identification. So, you're going to go and find Killian. Now!"

Emma vaguely wondered if she was going to have to spend her first semester's tuition money on bail for Elsa. However, Weiss opened his mouth, then shut it quickly and dashed off in the direction of the elevator. She wasn't sure if it was to escape Elsa or to bring in back up in case Elsa began her rampage again. "You didn't have to shout," Emma said timidly. "We're in a hospital."

"I'm sorry," Elsa said, guiding her friend over to the chairs that lined a section of the wall between the nurse's station and a bank of patient rooms. "But you know how incompetence gets to me."

David smirked, realizing that if Killian was fine he would probably appreciate the story of the stormy and fiery blonde who had stood up to everyone to protect Emma and get the job done. Elsa had been in prime form, ordering people around and getting to the bottom of the identity of the man in the bed. When David stepped up next to Emma, feeling both relief that the man was not Killian and fear over what may have happened to his friend, he had given her a quizzical look.

"That's just her," Emma had said quietly, nervously chewing on her bottom lip. "Some people freak out in a crisis, but Elsa just takes charge. It calms her down. And she's good at it."

David pointed to a row of vending machines and began digging his pockets for change. "Anyone want any coffee?"

"I don't do vending machines," Elsa declared, looking pointedly at Emma. "You okay up here while I see if the coffee shop downstairs is open? I could use something iced and strong."

"I'm fine," Emma said, realizing it was sounding more like a mantra for her. It had been the majority of what she had said, other than her own outburst of anger when she realized that her panic had been directed at a perfect stranger and not Killian.

"You're not," Elsa said, her mouth set in a firm like of determination. "But we'll deal with that later." She had a single hand on her hip and the other was digging for cash. "David, watch her, okay? I'm getting real coffee. And why don't you call those researcher guys that last saw Killian? They will at least know what he was wearing." She didn't wait for a response, spinning and heading over for the bank of elevators, which seemed over the top for a two story building. "And Emma…Why don't you research trauma centers in Maine? I really don't think this is the place for them to bring Killian if there is a problem." She wrinkled her nose in distaste.

"You're a little bossy," David muttered, deflating as he sank into the seat next to Emma. He probably didn't intend for her to hear that, but her quick turn said she did.

"I'm not bossy," she said firmly. "I'm simply the one who knows what is best in this situation."

Emma nodded, quietly putting in a coffee order and settling back with her phone. "No signal," she said to David, her voice almost relieved.

"You thought he was just too inept to call or text?" David asked with a chuckle. "Emma, I know we aren't out of the woods here, but the fact that…"

"No," she said, quickly interrupting him. "We don't know where he is or what has happened? He could be hurt and need us right now." She sighed. "Elsa's right. You need to go see if you can track down those men. I'm going to see about getting us out to that island. There has to be something we can do."

***AAA***

The kitchen in the Nolan house was bright airy, everything organized and perfectly placed in the oak cabinets and in canisters that were labeled with the perfect penmanship of a teacher. While Will and Philip went to retrieve Emma's car, Mary Margaret had taken Henry with her back to the house. She had made him sandwiches and served chips along with homemade milkshakes.

Henry apologized for kicking the table leg and shaking Mary Margaret's tea until tiny warm droplets splashed on both her and the table. "I didn't mean…"

"It's fine," she said, mopping up the mess with a napkin. "You're worried. David or your mom or that friend of your mom's will be calling soon. And we'll know what's going on, okay?"

"Elsa, her name is Elsa."

"Elsa," Mary Margaret corrected herself. "Now, what do you say we forget the reading and the school stuff and spend this afternoon and evening watching movies? Your pick." She lifted the empty plate from in front of him and placed it in the sink to be washed with the others.

"Anything I want?" he asked, leaning his head on one bent arm. "Even something rated R?"

"Well," Mary Margaret said, considering her words carefully when it came to the limits. "Within reason. I was thinking you might like a superhero movie or maybe something scary?"

Henry nodded, but he didn't get up from his chair as she washed the handful of dishes and dried them rather than letting them sit in the drainer. His mouth turned down as he waited on her to finish. Finally after she had turned to him, he asked what he was wondering about. "Is it Killian?" he asked. "Is something wrong?"

The teacher sighed, having been given only limited information from her husband as he had hurried to find Emma. "I don't know a lot of details," she said, watching his reaction carefully. "I know that a policeman friend of David's asked that he and Emma come to the hospital in another town. They are there now and seeing to everything. I'm sure they will call with news as soon as they can."

Henry nodded. "He really likes my mom," he added.

"Yes, he does. He likes you too. When you were taking those sailing classes and whale watching, he used to talk about you all the time. He'd tell me how smart you are and how he hoped you might find a career in that field someday."

"Really?"

"I don't have to tell you," she said, sliding into the chair closest to Henry. "He doesn't hand out praise very easily. And the fact that he sees something special in you tells me that he cares about you a great deal."

Henry wiped his mouth with the napkin that she handed him. "Do you think he's okay? I mean, the storm was kind of bad."

"The storm was bad," Mary Margaret agreed, "but I have hope that he's going to be fine. Do you know what tomorrow is?"

"It's the fourth of July," Henry said with a little shrug.

"Yes, and Killian loves fireworks. He could watch them for hours. And I know for a fact that he wants to watch them with you and Emma this year. So even if he can't do it tomorrow for some reason, he'll find a way to watch them with you guys soon. He promised your mom and Killian doesn't break a promise."

**_Thoughts?_**


	23. Chapter 23

_**This was originally going to be a three part fic. I guess I sorta miscalculated on that.**_

Emma ducked her head as she passed form the galley into Killian's cabin, avoiding the low ceiling that inadequately concealed some sort of equipment. It was a tip he had given her, calling it out any time she moved between the two areas to the point that she could hear it despite his absence.

"I don't get why we are here," Emma told David, who was smiling at a few of the pictures Killian had taped up by the radio equipment. There were old shots of them at some fair or carnival. There was a picture of the weekend they had all gone to Atlantic City. He saw an old prom picture of Aurora and Phillip, as well as his own wedding photo with Mary Margaret. Killian might never admit it, but he was the sentimental type. The movie stub and the pictures of him with Henry and Emma were evidence to the contrary.

"I'm just seeing if everything looks normal while we wait to hear back about the boat. You know…Did he take his cell phone? Did he…" David looked at her strangely. "What?"

"You're treating this like a missing person's case," Emma said, her voice cracking. "It's not. He's either hurt or…"

David shook his head. "He's fine. I know he's fine. I have hope that he's fine and just stranded or something."

"You have hope?" Emma asked incredulously. "How on earth do you have hope at a time like this?"

David rocked back on his heels and stared at her pointedly. "Have you met my wife? She's the most hopeful person I know. I'm well aware that Killian has referred to her as a Disney Princess minus the talking birds and mice. It rubs off on me sometimes."

"Are you telling me that you can keep a hopeful attitude with your job as a sheriff? Those two seem to contradict each other." She was wary of false hope, having heard it so many times in her childhood. There were always promises that this would be the last foster home, the family was interested in adopting, or there would be toys under the tree at Christmas. Her least favorite was always that promise that it would be last time she was hit. She'd become both cynical and realistic in her youth, traits that served her well in her survival and in her career. However, it had created walls and barriers, making her distrustful of people and even herself.

"It's a talent," David said, looking at the ladder that Elsa was descending.

"Good news and bad news," the blonde said, ignoring the fact that she was possibly interrupting a conversation. "Bad news is that nobody can remember if Killian was on the boat that did capsize. The people on that boat were injured and I can't get any details from them. The other rescuers left before that boat did so they aren't much help either."

Emma's teeth slid across her bottom lip. "And the good news?" she asked. "I could really use some good news right now."

"The good news is that David's friend," she looked pointedly at David and rolled her eyes at the mention of Weiss, whom she had deemed incompetent, "found us a boat. It's being brought to the end of the docks here and they are giving us two rescue dive team members to go back to the island to look for Killian there."

Whether from a wave or a the wake of another boat passing by, the boat they were on rocked a bit wildly and Emma reached her hand out to brace herself on the wall. "Wouldn't he have tried to have gotten in touch with us?" she asked. "We aren't going to find him sitting there on the island with his thumb out like a hitchhiker."

Elsa gestured toward the radio. "They were evacuating the island to get people back here," she reminded her. "No phone lines, no electricity, and even the water station was damaged. It may look pretty from here, but that place is not exactly a pleasurable experience had they left anyone there. Now with the bridge out, I'm guessing it is a low priority for anyone to go out there to inspect." She shrugged her shoulders and looked at Emma. "Look, I know you don't like getting your hopes up, but we always start where a person was last seen. That was the last place he was seen so we start there."

The three of them climbed back on deck and made their way to where the rescue boat was to meet them. Emma twisted her fingers together and stared out toward the island as though she could see anything through the summer haze. "Tomorrow's the fourth," she said, more to herself than to them.

"Yes," David replied, not sure what else to say.

She turned away from the barely visible island on the horizon and looked to David. "I wish you would tell me how you manage to be in law enforcement and have hope. I haven't figured that out yet."

His hands rested squarely on his hips. "I don't know that there is a secret to it," he said with his own confusion showing through. "I think it is just about the way you think. If you believe things are possible then sometimes they are. If you believe that bad things are happening just to punish you, then you're right. It's all about perspective and what you put out in the world."

Elsa's sardonic laugh rang out. "Someone's been watching Oprah's Life Lessons. Now, are you two okay to go out there with these guys? I'm going to see if I can convince any of the doctors to talk to the people who were on that last boat out of there. Someone must remember something or be better by now."

***AAA***

The churning salt water burned his skin and the wound that had cracked the surface between his elbow and right hand. He cringed with the sting of it, praying fervently that the shore ahead of him was not as far away as it seemed at the moment.

There were no others that he knew of on the tiny island of vacation homes and rental properties, but that had not stopped him from thoroughly searching every inch. The other rescuer had pushed off from the dock more than 24 hours before with a young family, promising to return in just a little bit to retrieve Killian and the dog that the children had sobbed and begged for him to rescue. Killian had conceded.

As the hours went by and the storm began to lessen in intensity there was no sign of the rescue boat or any other vessel. His searches brought up nothing more than a canoe someone had stored under a carport, which seemed grossly inadequate for the expansive sound and ocean waters in front of him. The two boats still docked were badly damaged and posed more of a threat than an opportunity.

So he had no choice but to wait, trying his cell phone every few minutes until the battery power dwindled. He had been seeking shelter on someone's porch when he hurt his arm, cutting it on a piece of metal that had protruded into the walkway between the landscaping. He had not seen it, but he had certainly felt that first pierce and tug along his skin.

Doctoring the cut had been hard without a hand to bandage himself, but he had done the best he could and waited out the storm. That morning, with his stomach empty and his thoughts racing through the possible scenarios, he had accepted that it might be days before anyone returned to the island without a bridge for the trip.

He'd been walking in front of the docks when he saw the rescue boat, now empty and bobbing aimlessly among the waves. It was a split moment decision that sent him swimming after it, knowing that it could carry him back to the mainland. It was either that or begin to break into the houses in search of food. It was not such a desperate situation as to threaten his life, he was determined to get himself to the safety and comfort of the mainland as soon as possible. Wrapping his shirt the best he could around his arm, he had dove into the water and began the journey. However, the boat continuously moved farther from him and the shore. He might have continued the chase had his legs not cramped from the tortuous swim against the waves. Watching hopelessly as the boat continued its bobbing route away from him, he ducked below the surface of the water and considered again his options.

He treaded water and spun back to the island, almost losing hope as he realized how far he had swam from it. There was no choice though. He had to swim back. Saying a prayer to anyone he could think of, he trudged onward.

***AAA***

David smiled encouragingly at Emma as she stepped from the unsteady dock onto the boat that he had managed to commandeer for the trip back out to the island. He knew she was uncomfortable with this, as Killian had mentioned it on their afternoon of parasailing that she was overcoming quite a few fears to come out on the water like that.

"You don't have to do this," he said as he looked up from the map that their team lead had provided. "We can go out and look and I'll let you know…"

"I'm doing it," she said, lifting her chin in a determined pose. "He would do this for me."

"He would," David agreed. Killian was like that. He wanted to help people, felt guilty for not. That was probably the case this time. He'd heard that rescue teams were needed and he had joined without a second thought. David only hoped that it had not been a bad decision. There was only a little sunlight left and they were going to use every second of it if he was calculating correctly.

As had previously been reported, the bridge from the mainland had been badly damaged by the wind and water, which would have left the residents stranded with no power and no access to the essential resources they would need. But according to the authorities all had been recovered and brought to safety. There was no reason to believe that anyone was still on the island, but David and Elsa had insisted they look.

It was pretty much vacation and resort housing, empty or sparsely populated for most of the year, but during the summer months it remained a popular destination. The boat sliced through the water quickly and the team of four people docked before Emma really had a chance to panic over the choppy water or the sight of the bridge that seemed even less stable as they drew closer.

David called over the radio to the teams at the mainland to announce their arrival before offering Emma his hand to help her onto the dock that usually held boats for water skiing and the occasional tour boat that picked up and dropped off tourists once a day in each direction. However, it was practically deserted with the two boats still there showing damage from the storm.

"So what are we looking for?" Emma asked as she gratefully sank her sneaker covered feet into the wet sand. "Any idea?"

"We're looking for Killian or some sign of him," David answered easily, veering around the silt and water mixture that had created a thick mud at the base of the stairs up to one of the houses. "If he's here, then we'll find him."

"Just hanging out by the pool?" Emma asked, her brow furrowed in confusion at his calm demeanor. She had spent years learning to find people, but this was a different case all together. "Sorry. I get a little snarky when I'm worried."

He chuckled, crossing over one of the sand covered walkways toward a large house. "Well then snark away. I'm personally hoping we find him in one of these mansions with a beer and a sunburn from having fallen asleep outside."

She glanced again at her phone and tried the GPS tracking device another time. It was silent, which did nothing to help her unsettled mind. She almost threw it to ground, proclaiming its uselessness as she did so. However, she knew that David was watching and probably judging her mental clarity.

"Over here," David said, climbing onto the porch of one of the houses. "Isn't that?" Killian's phone laid on the glass and metal table, practically buried under leaves from the trees nearby – still green, as not enough time had elapsed to discolor them.

"His phone," Emma said, diving for it and holding it against her as if it was something precious. "So he was here?"

"I think we can assume that," David said, turning round to see if found any other clues.

***AAA***

Killian wasn't sure how he made it back onto the shore, only that the sun was directly overhead and his body burned from the strain of the swim. He closed his eyes, colorful orbs dancing across the darkness of his vision as his eyelids again shut with a heavy finality. His tongue licked at his lips as he told himself it was fine. He could scour the houses and find food and water that would sustain him. He only had to stand up again, to fight against the darkness that consumed.

There was a strong sense that he needed to get up from the small curve of the beach that he had found himself on. It was at least a mile around to where the dock was located and when he pried his eyes open he did not even see any of the houses that he had seen before. Briefly he considered the possibility that he had somehow drifted onto a different island, but he remembered from his past experiences and sails that no such land mass existed.

The skin of his right arm felt as though fire was coursing through it, each movement tearing at his flesh. He propped himself up and fought the need to crash back down on the wet sand among the silt and the garbage that had washed ashore. There was a voice inside him telling him to get back to the docks. For some reason he listened.

He had left his shoes just to the right of one of the dock planks, half hidden under the weathered boards when he had dove into the water. So barefoot with his arm painfully bleeding, he stumbled through the underbrush toward the area where he knew the dock still stood. It was slow going, the briars and thorns cut at his bare feet and at times he felt almost lightheaded from either the lack of food or the sheer exhaustion.

His hand pushed agonizingly into his pocket in search of his phone, coming up empty. It didn't matter, he thought with a sullen realization, there would be no signal and the water would have cemented that fact anyway. He wasn't sure why he had reached for it, perhaps to hear her message again or perhaps to feel some sort of connection to Storybrooke and the life that he wanted to get back to without any doubt. He knew that two weeks of knowing someone to truly feel the emotions and feelings he had swirling within him, but he'd also be lying if he said that Emma was not on his mind constantly. He had not wanted to scare her away, not wanted to hurt her in the same fashion as she had been hurt in the past. So he had tempered himself and tempered his feelings until she was comfortable.

He could see the glare off one of the damaged boats, its metal and fiberglass reflecting the sun back into his eyes. He wanted to shield them with his hand, but lifting his arm seemed a horrendous task. That's when he heard her voice, the slight edgy panic that indicated that she did not believe what she was seeing either. His name was falling from her lips and through the haze of the sun and his own impairments, he felt her body slam against his in a wave of silken hair and the scent of coconut and lavender.

"Emma," he said, trying to ignore the pitying look as she saw his arm, her fingers delicately touching his arm. She gasped and showed more disgust in that moment than she ever had over his missing hand. Still she did not step backward or cower.

"You're hurt," she said, stating the obvious. "Does it…Are you…"

David approached from some distance away, his face grateful and his tone light as he instructed the others to board the boat. "Let's get that seen to," he said, his hand finding a place under Killian's elbow to guide him.

Emma did not follow immediately, her eyes closing briefly in what could only be described as a thankful prayer. When she opened them David and Killian were several paces ahead of her. She ran-walked to catch them. "You know," she said, eyeing his tired and worn expression and the sun burn of his face and chest, as well as the wound on his arm, "if you didn't want to go out again, a simple discussion would have sufficed. You didn't have to sacrifice yourself or play your own modern version of Gilligan's Island."

She was grateful she was smiling back at her, weak as it was.

**_I realize that was shorter than normal, but I wanted to reassure everyone that Killian is fine. _**


	24. Chapter 24

The morning of the 4th of July dawned both hot and bright, but with no window in Killian's hospital room, he and Emma did not even notice. They had tried to watch a parade on television, but the awkward angle of the television on the wall had not been conducive to that. The television was still broadcasting the images of happy people waving at floats and marching bands, waving flags and eating junk food at an early hour, but Emma had muted it and began pacing next to his bed.

"We're going to have a talk about this," Emma waving her hand at the hospital room and huffing in annoyance. "You risked your life to save a dog? Seriously, Killian?" Her mind filled with the last moments on that island, David half lifting and half dragging Killian onto the boat. Killian had groaned in pain, but still he managed to call out that they needed to bring the dog with them. The two men from the rescue crew had been wide eyed but followed the orders. Emma had ridden back with on hand holding his and the sweet beagle snuggled at her side.

"I thought they would come back, love," he answered, his eyes showing amusement though he was clearly in pain as he shifted in the bed. "I didn't mean to be stranded there."

Her lips pushed outward and she shifted her weight. "Killian," she said, a bit more sweetly than her previous warnings to him, "you could have died. I thought…" She shook her head. The conversations in the boat and the ambulance had been interrupted snippets of how he had come to be stranded and how she and David had come to find him. She'd managed to stay strong throughout, not letting herself cry or even hit him in the frustration that was evident. "I don't want to lose you. I can't lose you."

"You won't," he said, smiling at her through the fog of the pain medication and antibiotics that were making things a little hazy for him. "Now tell me how your exam went? All is fine, right?"

She flopped into the grotesquely pink chair beside his bed, the one that made out into a sort of a twin bed. "You could have died and you're asking me if I remembered the Pythagorean whatever?"

"It's important," he insisted, his words slurring a bit with the combination of exhaustion and the medication. "You've been studying."

"And packing, and raising a son, and dealing with crazy friends, and selling a business, and of course rescuing my boyfriend."

His eyebrow raised in a crooked and almost cocky way as he watched her for a moment, as if wanting her to realize what she had just said. She didn't take the hint. "Boyfriend?" he asked, prodding her playfully.

To her credit she does not retract the word or clamp her hand over her mouth. Instead, she laughed. "That sort of just popped out," she admitted. "I guess we don't really…"

"I liked hearing you say that, Emma," he interrupted before she had a chance. His hair is darker than normal against the stark white of the hospital pillow and sheets. His exposed skin is pink and red from the sun but his smile is still warm even with everything that is going on and all the possibilities that made Emma's head swim with anxiety. "But you didn't answer my question."

She tried to give him an exasperated look, the one she practically had patented, but she failed. "It went well," she admitted, smiling back at him with a level of pride he rarely saw on her. "I probably wouldn't have done as well if I'd known what you were going through at that moment." She dipped her head a little. "It was hard enough not knowing if you were safe or if you were okay." The smile on her face faded into a deep set frown. "I don't like that feeling."

"I missed you too, love," he said, interpreting her statement. "And I'm quite proud of you for the test."

She might have kicked the bed, slapped his chest, or even cried at the fact that the result could have been much worse. However, the steady rap at the door announcing Elsa's arrival interrupted any further discussion about how she was feeling and an outpouring of relief that was still bubbling inside her at that moment. She smiled reluctantly at the blonde who gave up knocking and had just simply entered the room.

"So we finally meet," Elsa said to Killian, ignoring Emma for the moment and giving a little nod to the man in the bed. She breathed in through her nose and crossed her arms over her chest.

He rolled his head on the pillow to face her, amusement at her regal and condescension evident. "Pleasure," he drawled out carefully. She crossed the room and took her place near the foot of his bed, waving off Emma's attempt to introduce them.

"I'm Elsa," she announced. She tilted backward in her efforts to appraise him. "So the doctors said you'll live."

"Aye," he said carefully. "I believe fortune has smiled on me." There was clearly something in his tone that said he wasn't just talking about being alive and the doctors.

"Yes, I believe it has," Elsa agreed, dropping the defensive stance of her of her arms. "So…"

Emma cringed, realizing that Elsa and Killian shared a common trait. Neither had a true censor or filter. While Killian seemed to ooze confidence and romantic gestures, Elsa was a bit more unpredictable. She also knew that she was powerless to stop either one of them.

Elsa's blonde hair was pulled over one shoulder and her head cocked to one side. "She," she said, pointing her entire hand toward Emma, "likes you, you know."

Both Emma's shout of Elsa's name and Killian's, "I know," blended together. Neither deterred her.

"And that doesn't mean I have to like you too," Elsa continued, ignoring the reddening face of her friend. "In fact, I don't usually like the guys she dates. She has proven herself to have very bad taste in men."

His eyebrow quirked up, followed by the other soon after. "Does she?" Like Elsa, he ignored the groan that came from Emma.

"Definitely," Elsa said, relaxing in her stance a bit more. "We can compare notes sometime. I have some fun stories about our girl."

"I should like to hear them," he answered, his eyes dropping a bit with the medication. "But I think they might be best over a beer or two."

"I think you're right. You buy and I'll provide the stories. I may even have a few pictures on my phone for visual aids."

Emma covered her face with her hands. "I am sitting right here."

Elsa chuckled, but Killian was the one who made it even worse. "Jealous, love? It's only a drink with your dear friend. You are welcome to join us."

***AAA***

Mary Margaret hugged Belle to her, watching over the other woman's shoulder as Henry stared more at the screen of his handheld game than the activity around them. "I'm so sorry," the teacher repeated a few times.

"I knew it was just a matter of time," she rationalized. "It's still just hard to accept that he's really gone." The younger woman pulled back from Mary Margaret's embrace and dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. "Thank you for being here."

"Of course," Mary Margaret said, keeping a hand on Belle's shoulder. "You know you've got plenty of friends who love you. Your father's been calling about you too. And I know this is…"

Belle held up her hand with the tissue and shook her head. "I know all that, Mary Margaret. I've got to go finish with the arrangements. Thank you for bringing, Henry. I'm glad he got to say goodbye."

The brunette teacher looked back at the younger boy. She had not known what to do when the late night call came, as she couldn't reach Emma for counsel. There was tension between the single mother and the Golds, which she could certainly understand and recognize. However, she also knew that saying goodbye was important and something that never offered a second chance. So she had woken him up and told him the news that Belle's call had brought.

Belle slipped away and gave a thank you to the nurse who pointed her in the direction of a small room they had set up for her. Taking a deep breath, the teacher approached Henry. "You feeling okay?" she asked. "I know this was…"

"Have you heard from my mom?" Henry asked, looking up with dry eyes that showed no distress over the loss of his grandfather. "About Killian?"

"David called from a hotel room he got. Killian and your mom are both fine and will be home in the next day or two." She felt the knot of her stomach relax a bit. "You know that if you ever wanted to talk about your father or your grandfather, I'm pretty good at listening." She stooped next to him, taking one of the empty chairs.

"Did you know my dad too?"

"Sort of," she answered. "David knew him better. I know what it is like to lose a parent young though. My mother passed away when I was just a little younger than you. And my father a few years after that."

Henry bit the inside of his cheek. He was used to the conversations from adults about how they understood how he felt. He didn't even know how he felt. "You knew them," he said before clarifying. "You knew your parents?"

She confirmed she did, the memories of her early years with a doting father and a woman who had been a perfect epitome of a loving mother flitting in her head. "You didn't know your father that well?"

"I met him and spent some time with him, but I didn't…I didn't know his favorite anything. I didn't know why he didn't like his own father. I didn't know what scared him or what made him brave. Shouldn't I know those things? How can I miss him or feel bad that he's gone if I didn't know him?" He paled as he realized what he had said. He'd never even told his mother these words. "I didn't mean…"

"No," Mary Margaret said. "There aren't any rules about who can miss a person. You can miss the idea of a person, miss what could have been, miss the father you've been robbed of having. Because you should have had a father. You should have had more time with him. It's okay to miss that and even to be angry about it."

"I'm not angry," he said with a shrug. "I guess I just want to know. Everyone here has said what a great guy he was and how funny or smart he was, but that doesn't mean a lot to me. I want to know why. I want to know why he wasn't around when I was younger." He was again shocked by his honesty and bluntness.

She did not respond quite as he expected she would, holding her tongue as she watched him turn his face back toward the game. "I don't know, Henry," she said finally. "Your mother was young when she had you. And Neal was young too. Parenthood isn't something we come by naturally. We aren't like animals who just know instinctively what to do. So we make mistakes. We judge things badly. It's not fair, but I think we make up for it somehow. We make up for it by loving our children and trying our best in their interest. I don't know the answers to your questions, but I know that your father loved you and your mother loves you dearly."

***AAA***

Emma apologized profusely to both Mary Margaret and to Henry when she heard she had not been there at the time of Mr. Gold's death. She felt helpless with so many miles between them. "I'll see if I can get home today," she said, running her fingers over her necklace. "I'll leave Elsa here to see to Killian…"

"It's fine, Mom," Henry told her, sounding remarkably like himself even after the death of one of his only blood relatives. "I'm fine. Stay with Killian and bring him back, okay?"

Emma let out a strangled sound. "You're my son," she said, stating the obvious. "I should be there for you."

"It's fine. I'm fine. I'll see you soon, okay?"

Mary Margaret grabbed the phone back from him. "Emma, don't worry. The funeral won't be for a few days and Belle said it was just going to be a graveside service anyway. I was thinking that maybe I could drive Henry up to you. I don't know how you're all going to fit in David's truck. Plus we have to figure out how to get Killian's boat back to Storybrooke. Talk to him and figure out what you all want to do. I'm flexible."

***AAA***

Emma wasn't sure if it was his progress on the medication or the fact that he was probably the worst patient she had ever seen that made the doctor decide that he could go home the next day. She had been standing there beside the bed as the doctor gave instructions on wound care and following up back in Storybrooke. Killian had been pouting over the implicit instructions and the doctor's own ignorance as to the challenges that it posed for a man with only one hand.

"It'll give me a chance to take care of you," Emma said, ignoring the rolling of his eyes. "I think I probably owe you after…"

"Let's not start keeping count now," Emma said. "Otherwise I think I'm going to come off

"I was supposed to take you to see the fireworks," Killian said when Elsa went in search of more water. "You and Henry both."

"There will be other fireworks," she assured him, placing her lips on his creased forehead. "Knowing you, you'll probably go buy some and teach Henry how to set them off. That's all I need. My son will be playing with explosives." She sighed again. "He's worried about you. What with…He asked about you twice and insisted I stay with you."

Killian smiled back a bit warily, knowing that it might be bothering Emma that her son was worried about another adult besides her. "He's a good kid, but you don't have to stay here if you're worried. Go back to him. I can manage."

"You know," she said, nudging herself onto the bed beside him and sitting at his hip. "You and Henry should have a conversation about these things. You are both pushing me to take care of the other. It's kind of cute. You're both very cute." She giggled at the sight of his distaste for her choice of words.

He wrinkled his nose in disgust. "I prefer dashing or at least handsome, devilishly handsome, if you will. I am certainly not cute."

Her fingers pinched his cheek and she smiled. "You are still cute to me."

He made another face at her. "Is that why you can't keep your hands off me?" The cheeky answer as a question is typical of him, and, she hopes, a sign that he is feeling better.

***AAA***

The ever practical Elsa had not packed a bag of clothes for either her or Emma, but she did manage to procure a few items at local shops. An hour earlier she had practically dragged Emma out of Killian's room and left David to babysit the sailor – both of them were left grumbling and fussing that they were just two men hanging out and not one caring for or watching the other.

"I was going to go down to the cafeteria for some lunch for him," Emma said sullenly. She wanted to ask why Elsa was driving David's truck. As far as she knew, nobody drove his truck except for him. However, knowing her friend, he likely had no choice but to surrender the keys to her demands.

"You need a shower and a change of clothes," Elsa corrected sternly, her own outfit different and somewhat dated from the selection that had been available to her. "I'll take you back there after you're presentable."

"Are you trying to tell me that I stink?" Emma asked, feigning only some of her annoyance. It wasn't exactly the most supportive thing her friend could say.

"You're not asking me to offer you constructive criticism right now." She turned the truck into the parking lot, running two tires up on the curb and giving a look like she had meant to do it all along.

The room that Elsa had reserved for them was nothing special with two queen sized beds, threadbare carpet, one chair, and a serviceable bathroom. Emma followed her into the room and agreed that a shower sounded lovely after a truck ride, a boat ride, searching for Killian, and taking him to the hospital. Standing under the spray was a luxury, even if the temperature wouldn't remain steady and the pressured waxed and waned with no rhyme or reason. She washed off the grit of the sand and the scent of the antiseptic, letting the water knead into her muscles.

When she later emerged pink cheeked with damp hair, she was wrapped in towel and alone. Elsa left a note that there was an outfit on the bed and that she had gone off for an errand. Emma laughed at the thoroughness of her friend, trying to ignore the fact that Elsa had accurately guessed her sizes. On the paid laid a mint green sundress with white strappy sandals. There was even a bag nearby with new underclothes and a few cosmetic items. A note inside the bag read, "Better that he doesn't see that the bags under your eyes are a permanent feature. Cover those things up!" Emma giggled at the insult that only her friend could deliver while doing something nice.

***AAA***

David was completing a newspaper crossword puzzle when Emma returned and told him that if he hurried he might be able to ride back with Elsa. His eyes rolled with the threat that she might take his truck, but he took the warning seriously. "He's been out for about 15 minutes," David whispered, nodding toward the sleeping man in the bed. "But given that you look ready for a date, I bet he'll wake up any second."

Emma returned the eye roll. "Go call your wife. She's probably worried about you."

Once she was alone in the room, Emma sat next to the bed and watched him sleep for a few minutes. She hoped he would not wake up to her doing that, as he might think it creepy. She would have probably considered it that way if the situation was reversed. However, there was something peaceful about the way his face was relaxed and showed none of the worries and cares of the day. She had teased him when she left with Elsa that she was bringing back a razor, as the scruff on his face was heavier than normal, but she had not followed through. It was actually a nice look for him that made him look dark and almost dangerous. The creases in his forehead that he wore when he worried about her or questioned her on her plans and goals were smoothed out and dark lashes were displayed prominently. His hair was tousled in that perfect way and she tried to recall if she had ever seen him that it did not look as though he had just run his hand through his hair.

She let her eyes travel down to his right arm laying on top of the blanket, the bandages stark against the blue material. She had seen his face when the team worked to debride the wound. The pain had been immense, but that had not been what she had seen etched across his features. She knew he was remembering the loss of his left hand and the pain and comprehension of what that would mean. To see his other limb practically useless as they worked had been something that could have broken him.

Not being a fan of blood and guts herself, Emma's initial reaction had been to wait outside. However, she could not make her legs work to leave when she heard the ragged sigh that he emitted as someone explained that the use of his hand could be compromised if the infection could not be stopped. She had gathered what strength she had and slid in beside him, her hands holding his left forearm and the stub that was left at what had been his wrist. He'd looked at her curiously at first and then with a grateful nod that understood she meant to help him through this.

It was not something they truly talked about. She had heard the story of how he had lost his hand. She had seen him struggle and overcome things. She had jumped in when he might need the assistance. Even when they had made love he had kept it out of her eye line, either at her side or toward her back. When they slept he was usually on his left side so that his right hand was free to touch or caress her, holding her to him.

"You shouldn't stare like that," he said groggily. "It makes me self-conscious."

"I don't think there is anything wrong with your ego," she answered back, crossing her legs at her ankles. "And you should still be asleep."

He shifted in the bed, scowling when he could not find a comfortable position. "I've had enough sleep," he said. "I only tried for another nap to avoid David. I love the man, but his incessant chatter about his worries about fatherhood are tiresome."

"I'm sure that he finds you tiresome too," she retorted.

He considered that for a moment. "I suppose that I might be just as excited someday should I become a father. It seems that nervousness and anxiety are part of the package there." His eyes looked heavy and he looked up at the ceiling. "But I think it would be a good thing. Fatherhood that is."

She felt her eyes widen at his admission. "I'm about to pull that we have known each other less than a month card here. I think that is a conversation for later."

He chuckled. "No better place for a panic attack, love," he mocked. "They have the drugs to calm you down."

She shook her head. "You do move fast, but I was actually making a little plan for us myself. Nothing quite as big as that, but something you might like. So I have a surprise for you."

"Have you now? I am intrigued." Those eyes that had seemed so heavy before were brightened and watched her gracefully stand up from the awkwardly positioned chair to move toward the door. He took in the sway of her hips and the way the fabric moved with her like a curtain. "Is it so big that you have to hide it in the hall?"

She laughed. "It's so big that I have to take you out of your room on a field trip," she clarified. "The nurses okayed this, but they said you had to take the wheelchair for legal reasons." He watched her bring in the wheelchair and set the brakes as she placed it next to his bed. "I would have preferred to see you walk since your hospital gown would leave your backside exposed. I think the nurses would have enjoyed that too."

"I never took you for a fan of such gratuitous entertainment, love," he said, letting her help him into the chair. "But perhaps I have my own hospital fantasy that involves you in a cute little white uniform with a little hat."

"I'm pulling that less than one month card again there, buddy," she said, moving his IV bags to the attached pole. "No roleplaying for at least three months." She giggled at his groan, removing the blanket from the bed and tucking it over his legs. "Okay, maybe two months."

"I knew I would win your heart, Swan." She was pushing him toward the elevator, stopping briefly at the nurses' station for a bag of items.

"I don't think my willingness to get kinky with you is a sign of your winning my heart." She carefully maneuvered them into the elevator and placed an odd looking key into the panel. One look from her silenced the question on his lips. Even though they were on the top floor of the patients' wing, the machine climbed higher and she pushed him out on the concrete of the roof. "Three nurses are breaking the rules to let us up here. So if we get caught, you're to pretend that you were sleepwalking."

"In a wheelchair?"

Her head tilted to the side. "Maybe I was sleepwalking and took you hostage," she offered.

"And you said no roleplaying," he laughed, tsking under his breath.

"Shut up," was her only reply. Just as the nurses had promised her there were a few pieces of patio furniture and a bit of light from the hospital's signage. She pushed the chair next to one of the chairs and plopped down next to him to dig through the bag she had been given. She pulled out their dinner and even a candle to help set the mood.

He raised an eyebrow. "What are we doing up here?" he asked as he watched her busily preparing everything. "Having dinner?"

She looked back at him with one finger tapping her nose as if they were playing charades. "And watching the town fireworks display," she added proudly. "I couldn't get you a pass out of here to watch, so this is the best that I can do."

A grin split his face, followed by a snicker as he observed the elegant meal she had acquired for them. "Chicken fingers?" he asked, looking at the box. "Really, Swan? I thought you would know that chickens don't have fingers."

She placed the dipping sauces out on the table she had moved between them. "And I thought you would know not to question food choices too much. You always end up learning more than you ever wanted to know."

"I apologize, love," he said, dipping his head in his best attempt at mock sincerity. "I'm sure your culinary choices are wonderful."

"Says the man who has used Granny's as fine dining." She poured a bit of soda in the cups and held one out to him. "A toast?"

He frowned a bit at the liquid. "I know it is considered bad luck to toast with water, but what about soda."

"I don't think there is a rule on that," she laughed, still holding her cup aloft. He was slower at raising his, careful with the bandages and tubes. "What should we toast to? Health?"

"Happiness," he added.

As the sunlight waned and the sky went from its pastel shades to an inky black, they ate and talked. None of the conversation was too heavy. Killian spoke of sneaking into a movie theater when his brother had a date and throwing popcorn at the couple only to find out it was two strangers and that his brother and his date had chosen another show. Emma followed up with a story about Henry refusing to learn to walk until one day she was on the phone and turned around to find him gone. He had wandered off into the kitchen to hide in a cabinet where she found him 10 minutes later – fast asleep.

She looked more relaxed than she had before, much of the apprehension gone as she leaned closer to him. They stole a kiss or two, her head resting on his shoulder for a moment before his voice sounded and echoed through her. "You look beautiful tonight, Emma," he said. "I should have made mention of it earlier."

"You don't have to say those things," she said seriously. "I never know how to react to them. Most of the time when someone says something like that they want something from me. It's usually a ploy."

He looked hurt that anyone could have been so cruel. "I mean every word," he said softly.

"I know," she answered, then she grinned. "Is this where I tell you that the bandage and hospital gown compliment your eyes?"

His hopeful smile fell as he took in her joke, but he quickly recovered. He knew it was just a defense mechanism. "I would accept any compliment from you."

She did not offer one straight away, instead leaning in over the handle of his chair to kiss him. Their lips brushed once, twice, and then a third time before she actually took the lead and deepened the kiss. His teeth tugged at her lip and then he laved the same spot gently. The kiss went on for some time, swallowing the fears and words that were still left unsaid.

The first boom of the fireworks startled them. "Good thing I'm not still hooked up to all the monitors," he said, tilting his head back to the sky. "I might have had the cavalry arrive with the rate my heart is going."

The two of them managed to watch the sparkling and loud display against the night sky, the colors shading their faces in different hues. It wasn't what he had planned for them, but it was a different experience than either of them had before.


	25. Chapter 25

_**A/N: We're getting to the end, but I wanted Emma to help return the favor to Elsa a bit. **_

Coming in from the kitchen with a glass of water, Emma marveled for a moment at the sight of Killian in her bed. She'd shared a bed with him several times, both at Granny's and on his boat. But to see him in the midst of her familiar floral sheets, propped up on pillows and nestled under a thin blanket that she used so that she could leave a fan on all night, was a sight she was not used to seeing.

With his bandages to be changed and medication to deal with in the aftermath of his hospital stay, she had hurriedly made up her mind that he would stay with her. He'd smiled and said it wasn't necessary, but he also added that he could not and would not resist the urge to spend time in her bed.

"Everyone tucked in?" he asked, opening his eyes and surprising her that he was awake after all. She placed the glass on his side of the bed and grabbed her phone to set the alarm.

"You're the last one," she said, peeling back the cover to slide in beside him. She frowned when he opened his arms to hold her against him. "I don't want to hurt you. Your arm is still…"

"You wouldn't hurt me, love," he insisted. "And I was thinking of nothing more than just to hold you. I wouldn't object to more if you were inclined to try to seduce me." He moved his eyebrows up and down as if to punctuate his thoughts.

"I'm usually the one on the receiving end of the seduction," she said, sliding her hand along his chest so lightly that the hair scattered there tickled her palm. "But I'm afraid that between your injuries needing to heal and my eavesdropping friend in the living room, you're going to have to wait for that."

He looked a bit put upon, but still pulled her into his arms and sank lower into the bed's covers. "I still can't believe you're here now," he said, breath warm against her skin. "I don't think I'll ever be able to let you go."

***AAA***

A few weeks later Elsa frowned at the pile of laundry in the basket before she lifted it. "You do realize that the Nolans probably did not expect you to house five people in this apartment when they rented it to you. There are rules and laws about that."

Emma pushed her feet into a pair of red sneakers and grinned. "Aren't you supposed to be gone?" she asked. "I thought this was just a pit stop on the way to your world tour of domination."

"Yes, well," Elsa said, shifting the basket of laundry to one hip. "Your boyfriend got lost and almost killed, Henry's grandfather passed away, Will has been reunited with his long lost summer camp buddy and childhood friend, and you can't possibly cope without me what with your new job about to start and classes too." She shrugged as though the answer was obvious. "I'm trying to be a good friend here, Emma. Not that you would recognize."

"Of course I recognize it." It had been a little more than three weeks since Killian's brief stay in the hospital and since she had moved to Storybrooke. She had to admit it was not exactly as she had pictured. Namely Elsa and Will's insistence on not leaving had added to the crowded and cozy nature of the loft. With Killian almost recovered, he was still staying there as well to have the extra help he swore he didn't need. Only Henry appeared to have any privacy at all, as he was not willing to give up his loft bedroom for anyone. The four adults had joked that it was like an expanded version of _Three's Company_. Someone was always arguing. Someone was always falling over something. And there were more misunderstandings than you could count.

Elsa had made about four mentions of leaving once they had returned to Storybrooke, Elsa driving David's truck with Emma and Killian while David sailed the boat back to its slip at the docks. Will had ignored her the first three times and the fourth time reminded her that he wasn't planning to join her on the first leg of her trip anyway. She didn't mention it again, instead going out and buying an air mattress so they didn't have to argue about who got the sleeping bag and who got the couch.

It meant that each morning was a fight when someone got up, as the air mattress did not fit fully in the living room. It invaded part of the kitchen and chairs had to be moved. That meant that someone was always tripping over out of place furniture and cursing under their breath. Killian was the earliest riser of the group and often experienced the worst of the aggravation.

Will was seated at the kitchen table, his coffee mug almost empty and a newspaper spread out in front of him. His gaze darted across the page and the marker in his hand tapped out a steady rhythm on the paper. Killian was across from him, giving instructions to Henry who was attempting to make a grilled cheese sandwich.

"Not quite yet," he said to the boy. "You'll know when it's right." Henry was standing on one foot, the other foot rubbing on the back of his standing leg to scratch an itch.

"Is he talking about food or sex?" Elsa said under her breath. "It sounds awfully zen for food talk."

"Given that he's talking to my son, I hope it is about food," Emma declared, pulling back the folding doors to reveal the washer and dryer. It was the first home she had ever occupied with such a luxury. She was well accustomed to laundry rooms, having used them as places to read or work with Henry on his homework. The first night she had spent in the loft she had done two loads in the middle of the night simply because she could.

The two women sorted the basket, calling out that it was Will's turn next. However, his quick witted response that reminded them how he had already screwed that up once and nobody had forgiven him yet. Emma called it a likely excuse and Elsa huffed at the stereotypical response from him. Walking past, she thumped the back of his head and headed over to the bank of cabinets and appliances that made up the kitchen.

"There's no coffee," she announced, slamming her mug down on the counter and placed her hands on her hips. "You didn't leave me any coffee?"

Will managed to look up from his newspaper and peered into his own mug that had maybe an inch of the dark liquid. "I'm sorry?"

Killian chuckled. "It's nearly one," he pointed out. "It is past the time for coffee."

Emma gave Killian a warning glance that he did not want to be a part of their argument, having witnessed those several times herself. She simply stepped around and looked over Henry's shoulder, telling him that the sandwich was now ready. "Take the pan off the heat," she reminded him. "I'm not aiming to have a fire."

Elsa threw herself in a chair with a pout on her face and looked with narrow eyes at Will. "What are you doing anyway? A crossword puzzle?" She grabbed at the paper, yanking it so hard that she left a corner of it in his hands. Raising an eyebrow at her discovery, she threw it back down on the table. "Apartments? You're thinking to move here?"

Emma bit her lip and steered Henry toward the living room and then the stairs with her hand on his shoulder. Gesturing with her head, she silently told Killian to join her in the bedroom. She had already heard from Will that he was considering the idea, but she had thought he would have at least broached the subject with his girlfriend. Obviously not, Emma thought, from the way Elsa was reacting to the news. Even with the wall between the two couples, she tried to sit as unobtrusively as possible, but given the layout of the loft that was hard. Privacy was not a thing to be had there.

"I was considering it," Will said almost meekly. "I found this one that sounds brilliant…"

She threw him a look that screamed annoyed. "I have a sister who I love and adore. I'm an aunt. You expect me to just move?"

"Bloody hell, you have been planning your world trip for a while now," he pointed out, trying what Emma knew did not work with her determinedly stubborn friend – logic. He was clearly wounded by her attitude. "You didn't realize that would mean leaving them? Leaving me?"

"And I invited you to go with me," she pointed out. "You said you couldn't because you wanted to stay closer to home. You didn't want to travel for that long, but low and behold you're planning to move? What if I had taken my trip? Would I have come back to find you living here? I thought we were trying to make things work, but no. You're here making plans that don't include me." She slapped her hands on the table and used it to balance as she stood up. "That's fine. I know now."

"You don't know anything about my plans, Elsa," Will said, his mouth clamping shut as he realized he had just said something wrong. Digging into his pocket, he pulled out a black ring box and slammed it on the table. "You are an infuriating woman, a tad bit daft even, but I was planning to ask you to marry me. I was thinking we might like to live here in Storybrooke together. A fresh start for us."

Her nostrils flared as if he had said something incredibly insulting. "And now you're not? What? Because I didn't want to come home from my trip to find out that home wasn't home anymore?" She whirled around to face the door. "I can't understand you sometimes."

"Oi!" he said more firmly this time. "I was still going to ask you. I'm asking you now." He flipped open the velvet box and thrust it toward her.

"How romantic!" she yelled, rolling her eyes dramatically. "You know a proposal should be something that is thought out and passionate. You act like you're being forced. You're crazy if you think I'm going to say yes."

"I'm not the daft one here, darling," he shouted back. "When you have come to your senses, you will see that. Until then, I think I'll take a room at that inn down the way." He threw the box down on the table and turned so quickly to the door that he had to steady himself rather than fall over.

"There is no need for that," Elsa said, storming toward the doorway herself. "I can get my own room."

Emma and Killian looked desperately at the door between the bedroom and the living area, the arguing couple between them and a clean escape.

"We could try to make a run for it," Killian muttered when Emma shrank into the pillows on the bed like she wanted to disappear.

"They argue all the time," she whispered, "but this sounds horrible."

"Aye," Killian said, falling backward onto the pillows with her. He pulled one out from behind his back with buttons and thick threads decorating it. The look he gave her was another that asked why on earth she had so many uncomfortable pillows. With all its adornments, it was hardly functional. She rolled her eyes at the silent criticism.

They both flinched as the door slammed.

"I should go check on Elsa," Emma told him, feeling reluctant to leave him and tilting her forehead to rest on his shoulder.

Standing, she gathered her hair into her hand and threw it over one shoulder, rooting her feet to the ground. Her hands lowered to her hips and she stood in the pose for a good thirty seconds before Killian asked her what she was doing.

"Gathering my nerve," she said with a laugh. "Elsa is a great friend, but the woman is a little scary when she's angry."

"That she is, love," he said, crossing his ankles and appearing to pose on the bed like a male model. "I think I'll wait here and let you handle it. If it sounds too rough, I'll call for assistance."

She giggled. "Don't worry," she teased. "I'll protect you from her."

She slipped out into the unusually quiet apartment and found that Elsa had retreated to the landing outside the front door. She was slumped onto one of the top steps, cradling her knees to her chest and the lowering them again so that her hands rested in her lap. Had she been Anna or Emma, she probably would have been crying. But Elsa was her usual reserved self.

Emma plopped onto the top step, looping one arm through the banister spindles. "So this is a switch," she said slowly. "Usually you're trying to talk me down from the bridge. I'm not prepared for this. Maybe you should tell me what you'd say if the position was reversed."

Eyes locked on her hands, Elsa huffed in discontent. "I didn't ask for this," she said. "I didn't ask for marriage and picket fence and all that."

"I don't think that was ever in the cards for you. Marriage yes, but I don't see you doing carpool or being a class mother. You're always going to be Elsa, a ring on your finger won't change that." Emma frowned at her friend's unresponsiveness. "Is that it? Are you worried that you're going to lose yourself if you marry him? Because I have no idea what it is that you're so mad about other than the fact that he was wrong not to consult with you on the moving thing."

She had meant to make Elsa smile and laugh from the statement, but it didn't work. The woman sighed with a resignation that made Emma's heart sink. "We talked about marriage before," she said, waving her hand as if the words might sting less. "He was married and then…well Anastasia, his wife died. She was missing for more than a year before he ever knew what became of her."

Emma remembered Will having mentioned his late wife before, having grown quiet when they were sitting around talking about a case of a wife on the run and her husband who just wanted to know of her well-being. "And that bothers you?" Emma prodded, not knowing what else to say.

"No, not exactly. I get that he loved her. He still loves her. But he's here and she's gone. It sounds simple, right?"

Emma knew better than to call any matter of the heart simple, but she wasn't going to argue with Elsa. "He loves you too."

Elsa shrugged. "Do you remember that creep I dated right after we opened the office? The one you said was hiding something."

"Of course," Emma said. "He was awful."

"He was married."

"Like as in separated or divorced…"

"Married."

"Oh." Emma glanced toward her friend again, looking for any sign that there was some remorse or regret in her expression. There was.

"I found out and I didn't dump his ass right away," she admitted. "See, it wasn't complicated. I knew he wasn't going to want anything more than what we had. It was just simple. And that is what it isn't with Will."

"Why are you so upset about it being complicated?" Emma asked, knowing what her own answer would be if the question was asked. Complicated meant having to answer questions. It meant having to be open to possibilities that she had always assumed were for other people. Is that what Elsa felt too?

"It will sound childish, but I guess I feel like I'm in a competition somehow. I'm competing against her memory. That's what he judges everything against. I can't live up to it. I can't be her. I can't be everything he had with her or everything he wanted. I'm not that girl." There was one tear on Elsa's cheek; proof that she wasn't heartless, she said as she wiped it away.

"I don't think he wants you to be the same," Emma said thoughtfully. "If he did, that would be kind of sick. I think that you being the same would be hard for him to move on, you know. I didn't know Anastasia, but she was probably what he needed in his life right then and vice versa. So he fell in love with two very different women. There's no crime in that. In fact, it tells me something pretty important about him." Emma's free hand traced a z-like pattern on her jeans. "It tells me that he has a big heart and great taste."

Elsa delicately dabbed her smallest finger at the corner of her eye. "You think?"

"You and I," Emma began, pointing her index finger at her friend and her thumb at herself, "we don't fall in love easily. We can't even imagine someone loving us. We start thinking of all the things wrong with a guy if he dares show us any attention other than trying to get in our panties. The fact that Will can honestly say he's loved two women in his life is amazing to me. I can't imagine it."

"You loved Neal and Walsh," Elsa pointed out, looking remarkably calmer than she had.

"I was too young to truly love Neal," Emma declared. "Cared about him, yes. Loved the idea of having him in my life, yes. But we didn't know each other well enough to call it anything. And as for Walsh," Emma shrugged, "I certainly didn't know him. Again, I loved the idea of him. Maybe if it had been real, it would have moved to that stage, but it wasn't real. It was a ploy, a con."

Elsa smiled. "I think you have it in you to love," she said. "You love your son. You love your friends. And I think you could even love Killian."

"And I," Emma said, wrapping her hand back on the banister and pulling herself into a standing position, "think you are changing the subject. We're talking about you and Will here."

Elsa held up a hand to get Emma to help her to standing too. "I guess I should go find the idiot."

"He's probably expecting you to," Emma agreed.

"You know," Elsa said, taking a step down, "I think I liked it better when we were just mean and bitter. Guys gave up easier. We had a good time and then went on our ways. Life was easier then." She smiled back at Emma. "This mushy love stuff is annoying. It's…"

"Go talk to him," Emma said, placing the ring box in the palm of her hand. "Find him and talk this out before I have to intercede.

Elsa shrank back in mock horror. "God forbid."

Emma waited there on the landing as Elsa descended the stairs. She knew her friend might hesitate or even come running back without warning. That was correct, as Elsa stopped with her hand midair before continuing through it. Emma breathed a sigh of relief and turned back to the apartment.

Not one to leave things disorderly, Killian had already washed the dishes and straightened up a bit. His back was toward her as he wiped the table carefully. She couldn't help herself, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind and resting her chin on his left shoulder, the softness of his t-shirt feeling cool against her skin. She pushed forward a bit and kissed his cheek as he turned his head.

"Crisis averted?" he asked, dropping the sponge and placing his hand over hers.

"I think so," she said. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course." He had leaned back into her embrace, smirking that she was instigating something akin to affection. She usually waited on him to make a first move. Yet there she was hugging him, nuzzling into his neck, and pressing tightly against him. "Someone is feeling a bit amorous at the moment."

"Trying to distract myself," she said, loosening her grip and nudging his hips so that he turned around to face her. Her left arm looped over his shoulder and her right hand sat flat against his chest over his heart. "We haven't had much time alone."

He dipped down to kiss her hungrily, mouths sliding off each other. Suddenly, as though someone had yanked him back, he broke off the kiss. "Something wrong?" she asked, lightly touching her fingers to her lips.

"Your boy is still upstairs and rightly scarred by the argument earlier," he said, gesturing his chin up toward the loft. "Perhaps we should refrain from damaging his young psyche any more than it has been."

She laughed. "Good point," she said. "How do you always know what to say? You're always saying or doing the right thing." She smiled tenderly, her hand reaching out to cup his cheek.

"I'm not perfect and neither are you, love," he said, backing against the table. "I suppose if you think I have been, it is more of a sign of the façade we have put up for each other. I haven't wanted anything or anyone more than I have wanted you, Emma. Even if at first it was just to make you smile. While that is exhilarating, it is terrifying."

"How so? You don't seem very scared." She rocked back onto the heels of her shoes.

"It is a bloody nightmare trying to keep myself from doing something to ruin this," he admitted, his eye contact with her waning as he dipped his head in a show of shame. "I have to hold myself back or I feel like I could scare you. I have to temper myself because I know that you want to move slow." He shrugged. "Emma, I want you in my life in any fashion that you wish and desire. I am just afraid that I might overstep and ruin it. I don't want to see you run from me."

Though she was a few inches shorter than he was, she bent her knees and came up under him with a sheepish smile of her own. "You aren't overstepping, Killian," she said, her hand going back over his heart. "I don't want to run from you. I want to be with you too."

_**Thoughts?**_


	26. Chapter 26

_**A/N: Sorry for the delay. Between the new baby, a jealous toddler, an offer for a new job when I return from leave, and having to pack up a house to move, I haven't been able to sit down at the computer and write. But we are coming toward the end of this story. Just a few chapters left.**_

Summer was beginning to fade when Emma and Henry settled into life in Storybrooke. Emma started her new job in August and Henry started school two weeks later. For those two weeks he helped Killian on boat repairs, assisted Mary Margaret set up her classroom, and attended a reading buddy program at the library where he helped tutor a first grader with Belle's help.

A few days into August Emma and Henry paid their first visit to Mr. Gold's grave, which seemed quite understated for a man of as much wealth and privilege as he had been. Emma stood back as Belle and Henry stood over the freshly carved stone and spoke in hushed tones.

"He said he wished he had a better relationship with your father," Belle said, her right hand on Henry's shoulder and her left tugging at the bow collar on her yellow blouse. "He just didn't know how. His relationship with his own father was a mess."

"It was?" Henry asked, his head tilting sideways as he visually traced each letter of the stone.

"Yes, his father was never really ready to grow up and accept responsibility. He abandoned your grandfather and went on to live his life with no responsibilities while your grandfather was raised by some elderly aunts." She paused, holding her breath for a moment.

"That must have been hard." His eyes were dry as he said it, emotionless as a young man could be.

"It's not an excuse, Henry," Belle said, her own eyes brimming with tears. "It's the truth. He didn't know what love really was and he certainly didn't know how to give it. I hope you know, Henry, that your grandfather did care about you in the best way he could. I think he would be happy that you are liking it here in Storybrooke."

"What about my dad?"

"He would love it that you and your mom have found a new home."

***AAA***

While Emma showered her first day of class, Killian dashed to Granny's to pick up some of her favorite breakfast pastries that he could neither replicate nor substitute. He had called ahead so that Ruby might have the items ready for him to slip back into the loft without her being any the wiser, but plans rarely went as foretold.

"Please tell me you're not waiting on a coffee," Elsa said with a toss of her hair. "The jolt of caffeine might actually kill you." She gestured toward his fidgeting hand that was flipping a plastic pack of utensils over and over. Under her gaze he stopped.

"I am in a hurry," he said, looking through the window between the dining area and kitchen. "And the Lucas ladies appear to be moving in slow motion today."

"Watch it water boy," Granny called out as she knocked a fist onto the top of the coffee machine and smiled triumphantly as it sputtered to life. "I've got your bag right here, but one more complaint and I'm eating them myself." She didn't wait for him to respond as she disappeared behind the swinging door to the sound of a dissatisfied huff.

"I haven't stayed here at the bed and breakfast for long," Elsa said thoughtfully, "but from what I've seen, you have to be pretty bold and fearless to go up against Granny for anything. That or a complete idiot. So which is it for you?"

"A combination," he admitted. "Anyone who claims boldness or fearlessness is an idiot, love. And I try not to advertise my level or lack of intelligence." He huffed again as he waited on Granny, but kept silence in fear of her retaliation. Hip against the counter, he raised an eyebrow. "Where is that fiancé of yours anyway?"

"He was still dead to the world, probably enjoying a bed rather than Emma's couch or air mattress." She and Will had taken a room at Granny's about two weeks before much to Emma's disappointment and relief. Elsa still would not fully budge on the idea of moving, but admitted that Storybrooke had more to offer than she had originally thought. Emma had hoped it was her own pep talk that had brought on his new open minded spirit, but the truth was that Elsa and Anna had discussed it at length too.

Killian, for once, did not offer a snappy retort. He knew that his own excuse for staying at the loft was wearing thin. His injuries had healed and his boat was repaired from the storm, as were the docks in Storybrooke. He was even making headway on the house he was purchasing from Regina. Still, he found himself coming back to the loft with Emma and Henry each night with very few questions about where he would lay his head.

"You know," Elsa said stretching over to reach the packets of sweetener that were closer to Killian. He noticed her struggle and pushed it closer. "When my sister would bring a guy around, I was always a real pain in the rear. Nobody was ever good enough. And when we met Emma that sort of carried over. I love Emma like my sister. I haven't known her as long, but I'd kick anyone's butt who tried to hurt her."

Killian smiled back, realizing the speech he was about to receive. "She's lucky that way," he answered. "From what she's told me, family isn't something she's really had in her life. So to have…"

"I'm not patting myself on the back here. I'm just telling you that while you may be making major headway in breaking down her walls, you haven't fully gotten my approval yet. I've never actually given it. To anyone." Her lips thinned as she rolled them over her teeth. "I'm not blind. You make her happy. She's smiling more. She isn't as paranoid or closed off. I think I've even heard her giggle, which is strange for her. So you're getting credit. I'm not saying that you aren't good for her."

He shot a glance toward where Granny should be, realizing his wait was being extended. "I'm assuming there is a but?"

"But you could still hurt her," she responded. "Don't worry. I'll pick up the pieces. That's what friends do, but I just think you should know something. If I pick up the pieces, then I'm going to have to kill you. That's what you expect though, right?"

"I would expect nothing less," he answered. "Elsa, I appreciate the warning. And I could tell you that I have no intentions of disappointing or hurting Emma or Henry, but it will happen anyway. That's the way of life. We will end up hurting each other in little ways and big ways. We will be disappointed sometimes. We will probably even cry over something the other person said or did."

Elsa considered that for a moment, ignoring the bustle and hullaballoo of the diner's breakfast rush. "You're right," she said finally, biting out the words as though she might object to conceding. "Doesn't mean I like it though."

"Aye, neither do I. The thought of hurting either of them makes me wish to hurt myself instead. I don't ever want Emma to shed a tear over a thoughtless remark that I might make or a misunderstanding that leaves her thinking I find her lacking in some way. She means so much to me that I would and will suffer too, but I'm also a realist. I know that there will be arguments and tears. I know that there will be…"

Granny appeared before him, regarding him over the rims of her glasses and holding the white paper bag in her hand. "Those tears and arguments better not happen here in this diner," she told him. "I can't abide by any dramatics when people are paying to eat." She pursed her lips disapprovingly and then hauled herself around before his mouth fully hung open. Elsa giggled.

"Maybe you aren't as brave or idiotic as I thought," she said, smiling smugly. "Are those for Emma?" Her head dipped toward the bag he now clutched in his hand. When he nodded, her smile widened. "Good. I'm coming over too. I've got presents."

***AAA***

"Henry?" Emma called from the bottom of the stairs. She could hear him milling about and knew that he was awake. It was his second day of school and her first, but he showed no nerves. The day before had been like any other, except that he wore a pair of khakis, a white oxford shirt, a tie, and a blue blazer as part of his uniform rather than his typical jeans and shirt.

"I'll be down in a minute," he called, his voice slightly muffled by something she did not identify.

Her hair was damp around her shoulders, and she mentally chastised the loft's electrical wiring for blowing a fuse whenever she used her hair dryer and warmed up her straightener. She'd have to deal with that later, she rationalized, knowing that getting breakfast for her son was more important than coifed hair. Leaning to the refrigerator, she heard Killian open the loft's front door. It made her both happy and a little uneasy that his comfort level was such that knocking was not a necessity. She loved having him there, waking up to his scruff rubbing against her shoulder from their entwined position or the way watching a movie or television at night always was a production with popcorn or some other special treat. She adored the way he closed his eyes on the first bite of any meal she made him, a look of someone completely savoring each flavor coming over his face. She respected the sea shanties he sang in the shower or the fact that he hung his towels up without leaving them in a pile on the floor to sour. He was great with Henry, but more than that, he was great with her.

"I brought breakfast," he said, holding the bag triumphantly before glancing over his shoulder at Elsa, "and she brought supplies."

It was not as though Emma had never experienced a first day of school. She could remember plenty what with the constant changing of schools as a child. However, there was something intimidating about her first day of college. Elsa and Henry had made a big deal out of it with their morning gifts of spiral notebooks, a new book bag, and a pencil box of every office supply that would fit inside it. Killian had offered to drive her if she so wished, explaining that their schedules matched.

"You're going to love it," he must have told her five times before they even crossed out of Storybrooke that morning. "Your English professor is great. I know him from…"

"You do realize that I'm not nervous, right?" Emma asked when he had paused to take a breath.

"No need to be nervous," Killian answered quickly. "You're going to be brilliant, love. Absolutely brilliant."

Even with her assurances that she was not that upset or worried about her new academic career, Killian kept up the chatter with funny anecdotes about some of the faculty and his own experience getting stuck in an elevator and almost missing a test that he was giving. She laughed, shaking her head that he seemed more nervous for her.

"I could take you to lunch," he said. "The school cafeteria and food court have wonderful grilled cheese."

"I'd like that," she answered hesitantly, "but I'm not sure…" They did not really speak of it, but she knew that he had agreed to lecture in two classes on Tuesday and Thursday in a time that would mirror her own English and Math classes. He had admitted that he did not necessarily like the rigid constraints of an academic career, preferring the research end of things, However, as he said, the money for such lecturing assignments was steadier.

"You probably don't want to be seen with someone who isn't a student," he answered himself. "I noticed you are staying away from the biology classes this term."

She laughed. "I'm not sure which of your insecurities to answer first," she said. "I am not avoiding lunch with you. I only meant to say that I wasn't sure if I have time for it. One class is on the east campus and the other on the western side. I don't really want to be late or arrive drenched in sweat from running." She smiled at him. "And I chose not to take your biology class because it was already full when I registered and there is the whole mystery thing."

He managed to smile back. "Mystery thing?"

"I might not be as brilliant as you think." She chose to use the word that he always chose to use with her. "I would rather keep the illusion alive a bit longer and let you think that I'm not a complete idiot. I may have a tough exterior, but I almost passed out when I had to dissect a frog. It was horrible." She shuddered with the memory of the teacher yelling to not close her eyes while she used the scalpel.

***AAA***

Killian was right that her first day was more administrative than academic and by the time he managed to meet her for their grilled cheese lunch, she was becoming light headed with the information from her English syllabus alone. Four textbooks to read, a 1,500 word essay each week, and a longer term paper due toward the end of the semester were all looming before her. She was almost scared to look at the syllabus for the math class she was taking. Even the calculator for that one seemed intimidating.

"You're not smiling," he noted, sliding a sandwich and onion rings in front of her. "Should I whip out a motivational speech or do I need to kick some butt of one of the professors?" She smiled weakly as he stole one of her onion rings and then guiltily repaid her with two of his own.

"It's all just a little overwhelming," she admitted. "What with a new job, getting Henry adjusted to school, and life in general, I'm not sure when I'm going to manage to do all this." She waved her hands over the stapled pages. "I will do it because I have to do it, but still…it just feels like a lot of work."

He nodded sympathetically. "You do realize you're not the only one who feels that way, love? One of the students in my intro class was already negotiating for fewer lab assignments. The wanker actually thought I'd negotiate that." He chuckled lightly. "Usually they wait a few weeks before they start complaining and don't negotiate, beg, bribe until the end."

"Students sound awful," she said mockingly. "I don't know how you put up with them."

"Bloody nuisances." His teasing smile made her almost giggle with the levity of their easy conversation. "This would be such a better place to work without them." He winked and bit off a piece of his sandwich.

She shifted in her seat, clasping her hands on either side of her sandwich. "You are playing with fire, aren't you?" He raised an eyebrow in question. "You're a faculty member and you seem to be dating a student." She twirled her straw in her drink. "Is that breaking a rule?" She hoped her voice sounded light, but she was curious about how fast and loose he was playing with propriety.

For a moment she thought he might brush it off as a joke, laugh away the concern, but he didn't. "You aren't my student," he pointed out. "And while that would complicate things in the eyes of the administration, it isn't a huge issue. Should it be one, there are plenty of places I could teach or do research. This isn't a publish or perish kind of institution, so it might behoove me at some point to make such a move. We'll have to see, love."

She lowered her eyes, considering his words. He did that often, speaking of the future without declaring it as such. It was moments like that where he spoke of plans for his career or hers and how that might affect the other. There were minor things like plans for weekend getaways next month or talk of the holidays that were still months away. Sometimes it was subtle like when he was talking of plans for his house renovations and dragged her along to the store to pick out paint colors. It was so integrated into his way of conversing that she sometimes didn't even realize it, didn't even know that she was agreeing to a future that would otherwise seem to scare her. If she had asked, he probably would have stopped, as he said time and again that he did not wish to frighten her in any way. But that voice inside her, the one that often said to slow down or to stop because danger was ahead was silent as she looked back at him. Maybe, she thought, the danger was in the past.

***AAA***

Emma's job at the sheriff's station was primarily administrative at first, but that was more a consequence of a small town with little crime than a commentary on her abilities. More than a few days turned into discussions between David and Emma about past experiences, which usually turned into comparisons of stakeouts and the most creative ways to run down a suspect.

"I've got to get to Mary Margaret's doctor appointment," David said, patting his pants pockets in a motion confirm he had his phone, wallet, and keys. "You're okay here by yourself?"

"I'm fine," she said, waving her hand in the direction of the door. "Go. Your wife needs and is expecting you. Go hear the baby's heart beat or something."

He grunted and looked about the space as if he wanted to give her a few last minute instructions. However, he settled on just reminding her about the phone system in case she was called out on something. "I'll be back as soon as I can," he assured her.

"Take your time," Emma corrected. "I know Mary Margaret has been wanting a milkshake from Granny's. You should stop there after your appointment. I'm fine. I am going to finish up this filing and get the new reports entered into the system. I don't need back up for that."

"Want it or not," David said, craning his neck to look out the door, "looks like help is coming your way. Or maybe that's trouble."

Ruby entered the station and kissed David's cheek before collapsing into a chair in front of Emma. She lolled her head back on the neck rest of the chair, dark hair flowing over the fabric. "I'm an idiot," she stated dramatically. "A complete idiot. I am swearing off men. Here and now."

Shooting a bemused grin at the women, David backed his way to the door. "On that note, I'm out of here."

Emma waved to her friend and boss, leaning back in her chair. "Why are you an idiot?"

Ruby delved into a story of misunderstanding, alcohol, and hurt feelings that was both tragic and humorous. Emma tried her best to keep a straight face during the monologue, but failed miserably when Ruby talked about lost boxer shorts and Granny's search for her crossbow. "I need a new start," Ruby said, winding down the tale. "I need to find my own place."

Cocking an eyebrow, Emma stared at her friend. "I hope you're not suggesting moving in with me. I just got rid of Elsa and Will. I'm not up for reenacting Three's Company again."

"No," she said, rolling her heavily lined eyes. "I was thinking you could help me talk to Granny. She's a bit of a problem. She still sees me as a 17 year old who wanted to be a fashion designer but didn't know how to use a sewing machine."

Emma eyed the woman carefully, noting the nervousness that seemed uncharacteristically apparent on a woman so bold. Ruby appeared almost childlike, wearing the makeup and the clothes of a woman to disguise her insecurity. "And now?" Emma asked. "What about your dreams of becoming a designer?"

The dark haired woman's lips quirked into a grin. "I would love it, but it's just a dream. I know I have to be independent without that dream. I have to figure out a way to make enough money to live without relying on my grandmother. I am a grown woman, but she'll never accept that so long as I live under her roof."

Emma leaned forward, her elbows resting on the desk. "And that's where I come in?"

"Yes. I need you to convince my grandmother to let me do this. You're a great example. You've been on your own for a long time."

"Out of necessity," Emma pointed out. "It's not that easy without an education or help from people." The toe of her shoe traced the lines of the floor tiles. "And that's what you hope I can provide."

"I'm not asking for money," Ruby said. "Just maybe emotional support." She laughed. "Maybe that's too much."

"No," Emma said. "It isn't. We'll talk to Granny."

Ruby visibly shook off her request at that point, a smile coming to her face that was much more relaxed now that the messiness of her issues were out of the way. "Good," she said, her shoulders rising up with the word. "Then we can get to the other reason I'm here."

"And what would that be?" Emma asked, straightening a stack of papers that was in front of her. David had seen that Ruby was there when he left, but Emma still felt guilty that she was taking the time to talk to her when she was being paid to work. It seemed wrong and she was beginning to be uncomfortable with it.

"Killian's birthday," she said firmly, as though Emma should have realized. "I was thinking he should have a party."

Emma's sculpted eyebrow arched. "He doesn't strike me as the type for a big to do over his birthday," she countered. "He hasn't even mentioned it to me at all."

"That's because he will be more touched if you act on your own," she said incredulously. "With my help of course. You and I can plan a menu. David can be in charge of the guest list with Mary Margaret, who is always great with decorations. Maybe we could do an end of summer party combined. You know something outdoors?" Ruby's eyes were bright as she pulled herself up out of the chair and headed to the door. "I'll make plans. He's usually around you so I'll just text."

"Text?" Emma asked, obviously aware of the technology but not sure why the secrecy was important.

"Maybe we should have code names. I could be Red and you could be Swan or Duckling." There was a giddiness about the waitress that seemed infectious. "This is going to be awesome."

***AAA***

Emma sat in her bed with her back against the headboard and her knees pulled up so that thick copy of Pride and Prejudice rested on her knees. She'd read it before, remembering the flowery language that seemed to roll of the tongue and give her insights into life that she would have thought common until she read them like that. Upstairs Henry had already fallen asleep after a battle about his homework and a new video game that he was trying to master. She found him in his usual position of a ball under the covers with one arm dangling over the edge of the bed and a head partially buried under a pillow. No matter how often she tried to put him in a more comfortable position, she always found him like this in the morning.

Listening to Killian humming as he brushed his teeth and finished readying himself for bed, she wondered for the fortieth time since she had moved to Storybrooke when she had become comfortable with Killian not just in her bed but her life. Their teasing and jokes came easy, as did their kisses and hugs. She found herself looking for him when he wasn't there and missing him if he was gone too long. It was exactly what she had hoped would not happen, but somehow it had. And at times that comfort scared her.

"Still at it, darling?" he asked as he flipped off the light to the bathroom and situated himself on the bed next to her. His position matched hers, knees pulled up and his head leaning over toward her. She could smell the mint toothpaste on his breath. His hand splayed out on her knee and traveled toward her midsection at an agonizingly slow pace. He practically hummed in a secret triumph. "I like this on you." His voice sounded almost sinful as he toyed with the edges of one of her favorite shirts to sleep in, faded and frayed but comfortable.

"I have a quiz on this soon," she muttered, her finger running along the line she was supposed to be reading. He was certainly distracting, though he did seem to have her best interests at heart. On her fourth pass at the line, she groaned and gave up, tossing the book on the nightstand where it landed with a thump. He looked at her in mocking surprise. "What? Did you really think that I was going to read while you are over here touching me like you haven't seen me in weeks?"

"I was hoping to be more than a diversion from your studies, Emma," he said, his voice almost rumbling as his lips were ghosting over her as though he might devour her at any moment. "Perhaps you should think of me as an inspiration instead?"

She hissed, sliding down along the floral sheets so that her back was on the bed and he was left to hover over her. "I don't know. I'm sure that you're quite talented, but inspirational? That's a tall order."

He chuckled and called her a cheeky minx, which made her smile as his lips found hers and the taste of their shared toothpaste combined. The kiss seemed to linger as she heard her phone beep beside her and the vibrations sounding just as loud as the tone. Blindly, she fumbled for it and giggled as he attempted to remove it from her hand. "It might be work," she whispered, pulling it into her eyesight to see Ruby's message.

**Ruby: It's Red! Talk now?**

**Emma: Not now. Later.**

Her left hand reached for the drawer of her nightstand and tossed the phone inside it before that same hand reached around and threaded its fingers through Killian's dark hair. She smiled. "No more distractions," she said, pulling him down over her.

_**Please let me know what you think...**_


	27. Chapter 27

The plans for Killian's birthday party were well under way with everyone pitching in to help. It was a wonder, Emma thought, that Killian did not know about the festivities, especially after no fewer than five people had almost spilled the beans. She was grateful that it was a secret so far, as it was certainly a grander affair than anything she had managed to plan for him before, including their fireworks date on the roof of the hospital.

Ruby called or texted a dozen times a day with menu questions and possible party locations. So far they had confirmed and then called off plans for a party at Granny's, on the docks, at the Nolans' house, and at Regina and Robin's house. They were hoping to pull off a beach party, complete with a bonfire and fresh seafood to eat. Even Henry had become part of the party planning when Elsa and Ruby had drafted him for cake duty. Since Elsa had become familiar with the lone bakery in town during her wedding planning, she dragged the pre-teen there one afternoon and filled him up with cake samples until he could not even eat the sloppy joes that Emma had made for dinner.

"I think the lad might be sick," Killian said as he helped wash the dishes. "He didn't touch his dinner."

Emma shot a sour expression at her son who had grown so tall that his long limbs hung over ever edge of the love seat. "He'll be fine," she promised bitterly, rolling her eyes. "I just won't be so willing to let Elsa and Ruby see to his nutrition."

His brow furrowed in misunderstanding. "They got him sick?" he asked innocently. "I saw Ruby earlier and she appeared well."

"They fed him enough cake to make a football team diabetic," she complained. Emma shook her head at the ridiculous way she had almost revealed that something was up. "Elsa wanted some other opinions on her wedding cake." She wiped her hands on the front of her jeans. "And my son volunteered."

"Can't say that I can blame the lad for that one," he said. "I might have accompanied them had I known."

That wasn't the only time that Emma had almost slipped. Even Henry had a moment one Saturday when the movie they chose to watch included a surprise birthday party. Henry avoided Killian's gaze as the three of them settled in for their horror movie Saturday, a new tradition they had started to combat what had been a string of rainy weekends. He usually granted his mother and the sailor one of his patented hurt puppy looks or at the very least an eager expression of excitement at their requests. However, when Killian's choice of a 1970s cult classic about a slasher on the loose at a birthday party was announced, both Emma and Henry looked down as if the hot buttered popcorn was the most interesting thing the world.

"Do we have any ice cream?" Henry announced, standing up so quickly that his bowl of kernels practically toppled to the ground. "I'm in the mood for a root beer float." He leapt over the ottoman that was Killian's attempt at decorating the loft's living room, landing with a thud on the other side of it. Though Emma said he must have found it in a dumpster, the crushed green felt monstrosity was a find from a yard sale he was driving by one afternoon. According to him, he thought it matched the room's color scheme perfectly. Emma threatened to have his eyes examined.

"Sounds good kid," Emma chimed in, getting up from her seat more carefully. "Want one, Killian?"

He shook his head as she followed her son into the kitchen and helped him to scoop the vanilla ice cream into the glasses. "Is something wrong?" he asked when he saw the off kilter expression on the young one's face.

"Nothing," Henry stated. "With this ice cream, I think I'll need a blanket." Without waiting to be told that he could use one of the throws around the living room, he scampered up the stairs and left his mother to assemble the frosty treats.

"You sure you don't want one?" Emma asked, her hand hovering over a third glass. "I've been told that I make a mean root beer float." She still had not lifted her eyes to meet his and seemed to be concentrating on the drinks so much that he wondered if the ice cream would melt under the heat of her gaze.

"If you're making, I'll gladly accept," he said, walking slowly into the kitchen to join her. "But I'd much rather know what I said wrong. Henry appears upset and you look ready to cry."

"I'm not sad," Emma said, throwing a dollop of ice cream into the third glass. "It's been a rough week at school and work. I never thought I'd finish that essay. I am so tired of trying to cite sources in APA style that I could scream. Plus work has me busy with that case against the guy who fell asleep behind the wheel of his car. He could have really hurt someone." She flung the scoop into the sink and resituated the ice cream carton in the small freezer.

"Sounds like you've had a time of it," Killian said quietly. "And…"

"And?" she asked, her voice echoing a bit in the freezer. "And I am looking forward to spending an afternoon watching a horrible movie with my two favorite guys." Her phone chirped with a message. On reflex she stared down at it.

"Go ahead and talk to Ruby or Mary Margaret," he said, sliding off the stool at the wooden island. "I'll wait."

"It's probably…"

"A work thing," he answered. "Yet I was on the phone with David the other night when you claimed that." He eyed the phone. "You know, love, I had hoped we weren't going to have these secrets from each other." Turning on his heel, he looked absolutely crestfallen as he made his way back to the sofa and collapsed against it with the three untouched bowls of popcorn in front of him and his root beer float melting.

Emma pocketed the phone and ran walked to his side. "You cannot possibly think that I would lie to you," she said, standing in front of him with her hands out to hold his. He didn't return the gesture.

"Love, I know that you're making friends here and you have Elsa and Will too. I just miss not being the first and last call you make." He rolled his head on the back cushion of the sofa. "It's silly. Forgive me for being a wanker."

"Nothing to forgive," she said, sitting next to him when he would not look up at her. "You're my favorite person to get messages from, but you have to admit that our current living situation doesn't really leave room for that." She winked at him, hoping that it would lighten the mood. "I guess we could try texting each other from bed. It would keep things quieter."

His head lifted slowly, his eyes searching her expression for something. She wondered if he found it. "It might get confusing though, love," he said with a resigned sigh pushing past his lips. "With as much as Ruby has been texting you about the party location lately, you might mix us up and say the wrong thing." He smiled, waiting for her to realize what he meant.

Her eyes flew open wide as the realization hit. He was playing her, his game evident and expertly played. "You know about that?" she asked, a redundant question given what he had just said to her. As her frown became etched into her face, his smile grew.

"Forgive me, love, but you two made a mistake that prevented your secret from festering." No longer pretending to be worried or distraught over her clandestineness, he reached out to where one of her hands rested on her denim clad leg and covered it with his own. She looked mildly puzzled about this so called mistake. "You included the Nolans in your planning," he explained when she said nothing. "Mary Margaret is a lovely lass, full of creativity and good will toward everyone, but the woman cannot keep a secret to save her life."

"She told you?" Emma asked dubiously, her eyes blinking rapidly as she considered what had transpired. "I can't believe she would do that."

He chuckled. "It was not as simple as that, love," he said, his hand squeezing down on hers. "She was planning some sort of decorations and asked me about my favorite colors. Then when Henry was sick from eating so much cake, she called to apologize while you were in the shower. I made mention of Elsa's search for the perfect wedding cake and she became nervous. It seems that your betrothed friend had picked out her wedding cake weeks before Henry's gluttonous sampling. I applied a mild bit of pressure and the lass cracked, begging me to pretend to be surprised."

Emma's head turned sharply toward him, her nostrils flaring in a show of indignation. "So you're telling me that you promised to keep your knowledge secret and now you're telling me. Sounds like Mrs. Nolan is not the only one who has trouble with keeping a secret."

"I intended to go through with the ruse," Killian said, chuckling at her put upon expression. "But you and Henry seemed so stressed and distraught that you might slip and give away the plans that I couldn't let you suffer. I promise, love, I shall turn in a performance worthy of any award for the dramatic arts. No one will know that I know a thing." He practiced his look of surprise, opening his eyes and mouth wide in shock that was clearly mocking all the hard work she and everyone had been doing.

She stuck her tongue out at him, a childish gesture but the best she could manage with the situation. "You're horrible," she whined. "Ruby suggested this, but I just wanted to do something nice for your birthday. You've done so many things for me and for Henry. I wanted to do something in return."

His mocking expression turned softer as he saw the frustration pass over her. "I truly am sorry, Swan," he said with sincerity. "I love that you want to do something to honor my birthday, though it isn't necessary. We don't have a scorecard, you know? It isn't ask though we are trying to even things out. I do things for you because I care for you so much that I want you to be happy. I love the smiles you give me in return." He nuzzled along the side of her face and into the crook of her neck.

"You think I don't want you to be happy?" she asked. "There's something very nice about your smiles too, especially when I am the one who makes them happen."

***AAA***

True to his word, Killian kept his knowledge of the party as secret from everyone else. He left the room during phone conversations and ignored things like websites left open on the computer and or hushed conversations before he came into the room. From what he had heard, the big drama at the moment was what Henry wanted to buy Killian as a present. Despite Emma's protests that the party would be gift enough from her son, the boy had scoured the Internet, every shop within walking distance and peppered Killian with questions about his likes and dislikes.

"You should just tell him something so he'd calm down," Emma said one morning on their shared drive from the college. "He's driving me insane."

"I don't need presents," Killian insisted. "I hate the idea of the lad spending his allowance on something for me."

She rolled her eyes. "He's determined. Maybe something simple and cheap like a t-shirt or a tie?" She pursed her lips together. "Is there a book you'd like to read?"

"I'll try to think of something," he promised, "something meaningful, cheap, and easy to find. That shouldn't be too tall of an order." While he was a bit embarrassed that Henry and Emma were spending so much time and money on his birthday, he was touched by both of their determination. He truly could not think of anything he might want. "What about you? You have a birthday coming up in October. We should celebrate that too."

She looked pained as she tugged on the strap of her seatbelt. "I don't really do my own birthday," she said weakly. "I always try to make a big deal out of Henry's though. We go to a ball game or out to his favorite restaurant. I always sneak in his room and decorate it with balloons and stuff before he wakes up." She smiled wistfully at the memory of her young son who had in his early years thought that the decorations were a magical gift for his birthday. He would wake to the colorful appearance of his room, running to bring her back to see the decorations that had just appeared.

"I'll keep that in mind," he said. "But why would you not…"

"Foster homes," she answered bitterly. "Some of those places aren't exactly homey. You were lucky if people knew your name, let alone your birthday. And when you're in them, it isn't really something you want to celebrate – the whole getting older thing. You know that each year older is less of a chance of a permanent home and more of a chance of being kicked out when you're 18."

It was moments like that which made him wish hardest that he hand two hands. With only one to steer the jeep, he was not able to hold her to him as she said the words that clearly still stung on her tongue. "Oh Emma," he managed to say. "I just can't imagine not wanting or loving you. I bet you were lovely with your blonde hair in little pig tails." He smiled widely "You were probably a fearless kid who wore a mask so that nobody could learn about the real you, but I hope I would have seen through it. I would want to know about those nights when you read under the covers and the way you could read people when playing a board game. Remind me not to play poker with you darling, as I am sure that you could spot all my tells."

Her childhood wasn't something she talked about often, especially with any sense of nostalgia or longing. She had not had lavish or even thoughtful birthday parties. She had shared rooms and beds with half a dozen kids, some of whom tortured and hurt her. She had suffered the physical blows of drunken guardians and the scars of self-loathing when she held the fact she had been abandoned a little too close to her heart. She did not share that, not even with Henry when he begged to know of her younger years in comparison to hers. She did not tell him of the Christmases when the charity donated presents were all meant for a child younger than five and she was 11. She did not tell of the foster mother who had been so insane that she locked the children outside of the house in the snow because the voice in the mirror told her to do so. And she did not tell anyone of the neighbor with ill intentions that she had to fight off with a steak knife when he decided to focus on her.

"I…" she drew her breath in through her nose, closing her eyes tight. "I don't want to hold back. Please know that. It's just not something I normally share. I didn't have the easiest of pasts, but I'm okay now. I don't want that past to define me. I don't want it to define how you think of me."

"I can assure you that I would think no less of you for any reason," Killian said solemnly, "but I understand why you are hesitant. It appears, love, that we carry some of those same scars of our youth from abandonment."

"Maybe we do," Emma said, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek. "But that doesn't let you off the hook. We still need to figure out a gift for Henry to get you."

***AAA***

Summer was lingering into fall, but the day of Killian's birthday was predicted to be unseasonably warm and clear. Emma had slid out of bed that morning, replacing her body with a pillow that Killian immediately hugged the warm and pliant fabric into his chest as he usually held her. She watched him for just a moment, making sure that his eyes were shut tight and his breathing remained even as she scooped her pajama top and bottoms off the floor and covered herself appropriately. While she had come to be more open with him, frying bacon naked was not on her list of things to try.

She moved as swiftly as she could around the kitchen that contained all the charms of years gone by but few of the conveniences. The stove was functional but narrow and did not fit her pans on all four burners. The refrigerator was serviceable and cute with its vintage charm, but lacked real space. Still, she thought more of menu and quickly chopped the veggies for a southwestern omelet. Bacon and toast would round out her breakfast selections, along with some fresh fruit and strong coffee.

There was no doubt that he had heard her when she dropped a pan to a clattering stop on the hard floor. But to his credit he did not make a sound, probably realizing that her efforts were to surprise him. So she tried to look shocked when she found him sitting up in bed, the blanket pooled around his hips and a devilish grin on his face as she carried in the tray with his breakfast. "Happy birthday," she said, pointing to a balloon bouquet that had been a pain to hide the night before and the streamers that she had tied to the rafters above their bed. "Surprise!"

"I'm not going to ask how you managed to pull that off," he commented, pointing upward. "Am I such a heavy sleeper?"

"Yes, you do sleep like the dead," she said, scooting the tray to the center of the bed and sitting on the opposite side of it. "But I'm afraid not even I could balance on a bed and do that while you slept. I hung them while you were at your house and pulled them down with that little hook thing over there. Pretty clever." She smiled proudly at herself.

"You're bloody well the most brilliant lass I know," he complimented, ignoring the tray and reaching over to brush his lips over hers. "But I missed you when I woke up. I'm used to a mouthful of your hair and you wiggling to snuggle in closer."

She rolled her eyes. "Someone had to make you breakfast in bed on your birthday," she reminded him. "And I don't wiggle." She playfully pouted as she pushed the tray closer to him. "Not bad, right?"

"It looks delicious," he declared. "I am duly impressed, love." He reached for the coffee first, a gesture she was sure that he would make. His long sip with his eyes trained on her, made her cheeks flush with the attention.

Their morning was lazy with the food devoured and time spent just enjoying each other as Henry had been relegated to decorating duty with Mary Margaret and David. He still believed that Killian was going to be surprised and had snuck out of the loft that morning with a dramatic finger of his lips gesture to his mother. She had smiled back at him, trying not to notice the coltish appearance he had taken on with his latest growth spurt.

Fingers lazily tracing over each other, Emma fought against her normal self that would have chastised them for sleeping in that morning. Killian was a man who enjoyed such quiet moments and the least she could do was give them to him on his own birthday. "I got the final certificate from Regina yesterday," he said, propping himself up on an elbow. "The house passed inspection and is ready." His expression could have been proud, but he was quiet and waited patiently on her response.

"So you'll be moving in," she said rather flatly. "Remember our deal. I want to be your first dinner guest." She had been to the house quite a few times to view the work he had done. And she knew that his intentions were for her and Henry to move in with him, even having painted a room to match the comforter set and accessories that her son sported in his room now. The sunroom off the kitchen had also been painted, a lemony yellow color and decorated with an oversized and overstuffed chair with an ottoman, a chaise, and a series of built in low bookshelves under the windows. It would make the perfect place for her to study and read with the sea air blowing in from the windows in the spring and summer and in front of a fire on the coldest of fall and winter days.

"You are welcome there any time," he said hesitantly, an edge to his voice as he remembered the last time they had such a conversation. "I'd rather like it should you choose to live with me there. There is plenty of room and…"

She closed her eyes as though that might stop the conversation. "I'm not ready," she said, her voice hitching. "Anyway, let's talk about something more pleasant."

He sighed, rolling to his back. "I don't understand, love," he said finally. "We are living together here. I spend every night. My clothes are in your bloody wardrobe over there. How would living in my house be any different? Except for having more space? I don't see the problem."

She rolled a bit toward him, trying not to let his move away from her stick. "I know," she agreed, "but we didn't plan for this." She waved her hand up over them as if to explain that she meant the whole situation. "It just sort of happened so it wasn't scary or a decision. It was just natural. I've never…I've never moved in with a guy and the whole idea is just a little intimidating because it is more than just a living together. It's…" Her words failed her. "I don't want to have this discussion today. Not on your birthday."

She knew that he might get angry over that, make some comment that he was good enough to sleep with but not good enough to have a life with beyond the occasional dinner date or movie. It seemed quite a role reversal, as she remembered Anna crying over guys not wanting a commitment and rushing headlong into it when they did. Even Elsa seemed to lean more toward relationships than lone wolf status, but Emma was different. She liked dating in theory, loved the warmth of someone in her bed, and adored the lack of question about escorts for dinner. However, beyond that was a nebulous black cloud of doubt that made Emma wonder if she could ever have normal.

"Don't use my birthday as an excuse, darling," he said, kissing her temple, "I hope you'll listen for just a moment before we put this aside. You keep asking what I want for my birthday and I have a hard time telling you. The truth is that I want you, Emma. I want you and Henry in my life. I only wish to say that you and your boy are welcome in my home any time. Like I told you, my dream is for you to be standing there on my front porch, but more than that I want to have you sitting at the kitchen table in the morning as you cram for a test. I want Henry to be in his pajamas sacked out on the couch after a marathon of watching super hero movies. There's a part of me that can see you nervously preparing a meal for the first lass that Henry brings home to meet us. You judging her and shooting me looks to see if I approve. I want us to be a family, Emma. I know that…"

She stiffened in his arms. "I want that, Killian," she said. "I just don't know that I can have it. I don't know if I'm cut out for it."

"I'm not trying to pressure you, Swan," he said, tenderly running the back of his fingers over her cheek and gently turning her face to meet his gaze. "I'm glad to wait for you as long as you want or need. Should you decide that this isn't what you desire, I shall step aside. It would be the hardest thing, but I cannot want anything more than for you to be happy, love. That's all I can want. If it is not with me, then I shall not try to make you stay." His forehead was against her temple and his eyes closed, the dark thick lashes tickling her skin. "I do hope it is with me. Nothing would make me happier than a life with you."

She willed her body to relax, to curve to him and show him wordlessly that his desire wasn't unfounded. "Killian," she said in a soft voice. "I am trying to be normal about this between us. I'm sure I'll screw up sometimes, but one of these days maybe I'll get it right. Maybe we can…Damn it. I don't even know how to do this."

He chuckled, his grin against her face evident. "I don't mean to frighten you. If you need more time, that's fine. I guess I'm just anxious to have our future start now."

***AAA***

Just as Ruby had predicted, the party was a raging success. All of their usual friends had turned up to the clam bake/bonfire on the beach. Though the signage and the greetings were for Killian, Emma could not help but appreciate the way it felt standing snug at his side as people cheered his arrival and wished him well for his next year of life. When she attempted to move to give him some room, his arm that was looped around her waist pulled her back.

"It's lovely," he told Mary Margaret, who was becoming visibly more pregnant by the day. "Who on earth would come up with a pirate theme for a beach birthday party?" His eyes danced merrily as David hip bumped hips with the woman teasingly.

"Watch it, mister," she said warningly. "I could bury your dinner and make you have to find x marks the spot to eat tonight." Her nose and eyes crinkled into a smile.

"Such hostility," he mused, winking at the sheriff. David had told him that his normally sweet teacher of a wife had let her emotions shine a bit now that she was in her second trimester. She complained loudly about the prices at the grocery store and called people out on their driving mistakes. The most disconcerting part, David had told him, was that Mary Margaret seemed to do it with a sweet smile on her angelic face that did not always match her sharp words. The teacher spotted her friend Ashley and scampered away with a squeal about seeing the ever growing Alexandra.

"You handled that well," Emma said, leaning her head onto his shoulder. "I should go find Henry though."

"The lad's over there with Roland," Killian said, gesturing vaguely to a spot where Robin was helping the two roast marshmallows as Regina warned it would ruin their appetites for dinner. However, her worries ceased as the two boys lost white treat after white treat into the fire as the delicacies dripped off and landed in the flames and ashes. Roland thought this was hilarious and began to call his buddy, Killian, over to watch as he purposefully threw two sugary snacks into the roaring fire much to Robin's dismay and Henry's entertainment.

Ruby had done a great job getting the menu together as they dined on crab legs, oysters, clams, and shrimp. There was fresh corn on the cob, potatoes, and some sort of bean salad that Philip had insisted on bringing with bottles of rum under the claim that it was a family recipe. As the evening wore on there were conversations, birthday cake and even music as someone pulled out a guitar and the group screeched their way through classics from the 1980s. Most of the presents were simple and meaningful items that his friends had obviously put some thought into when they were purchased or made. From the Nolans there was a new bell for his boat. Aurora and Philip had bought him some new fishing equipment while Ashley and her husband gave him a book from one of his favorite English authors. Elsa and Will gave him an updated book of maps that he had been staring at longingly for about a month. Ruby gave him a gift certificate to the diner and Victor jokingly said his present was a free trip to the ER after he used that (he actually gave him a frame for a photograph of Killian and Emma). Regina and Robin gave him two hand carved chairs for the deck of the new house and a framed drawing that Roland had made for him. Ariel and Eric gave him a leather bound journal that matched the others in his collection on the boat, while Belle even send her regrets for missing the occasion and a nice bottle of wine. Henry's gift was a coffee table book about whale watching along the Eastern Seaboard. Emma handed him a wrapped gift and leaned in close before she released it. "This is just for now," she said. "I have something else for later."

Killian smiled and peeled back the paper to find an antique telescope and stand. "I know just where to put it." The master bedroom of the house had a small covered balcony that overlooked the water.

It was close to 2 a.m. before Killian and Emma piled into his jeep, having seen Henry off to Regina and Robin's at Roland's fervent request. Henry conceded upon remembering the game room that Robin had set up and was already thinking of how to spend the hours while Roland was sleeping. Emma's eyes felt heavy as she sank into the seat. "Did you have a good birthday?" she asked, caressing his arm as he steered them back to the main road.

"Aye," Killian answered. "One of the best, but I can't help but be curious about this mystery present." He gave her a quick glance and a wiggle of his eyebrows. "What might that include?"

"Get your mind out of the gutter," she said. "It's nothing kinky." She turned her gentle caress down his arm to a playful slap. "Why don't we head to your new house? I want to give you your gift there."

Killian might have found the request odd, but as he usually did with her, he followed along. Winding past some of the closed businesses, he made his way toward the house. Pulling up along side the porch rather than into the detached garage, he cut the engine and waited for her to move. It was her idea after all.

She smiled at him, the light of moon enough to illuminate their way up the path to the front door. His hand was on the key, but she reached out to stop him from placing it in the lock, her fingers closing over his hand. "Look down," she said, her voice a bit husky.

He complied, his eyes darting down to the well worn boards of the porch that wrapped around the structure. "Emma?"

She smiled back at him. "I bought you…us…a welcome mat," she said. "You said that you would wait. You've been saying that all along. And well, I know you said that someday you hoped I'd be standing here knocking on your door." She ran her foot along the edge of the woven mat. "So I thought I should have something nice to stand on while I waited for you to let me in." She swallowed hard, waiting as he processed her words.

"Emma?"

"You're right," she said, giggling. "God I hate saying that. I talked to David tonight at the party. Ruby is going to rent the loft because Henry and I are going to move in here with you." She bit her lip as she waited to say the words she wanted to say. "I don't want to wait."

"I would, if you need me to, I'll wait." His arm seemed to tremble as she still covered his hand with her own. His eyes swirled with hope and doubt as she shook her head.

"I don't want to wait."

He breathed out, a look of relief and happiness mixing across his features. "Emma," he said, his eyes hooded as though he were trying to savor the moment. "I love you."

Her reaction wasn't typical, laughter rather than emotional confessions. When he looked at her with hurt registering, she shook her head. "Sorry," she said, her voice hitching as the laughter again threatened to spread. "I just realized that I just agreed to move in with you and haven't actually ever said those words to you yet."

His relief was back, his free arm winding around her there on the porch with only the moon providing light. "I don't think anyone will ever accuse of us being traditional, love."

"I love you too," she said simply, standing on her tip toes, she tilted back her head in a move to kiss him, but stopped short of pulling his mouth down to hers. "You sort of missed the whole moving process when I came to town. It's going to serve you right that you have to go through it now."

"Gladly," he smirked, dipping his head down to hers. "So, Ms. Swan, what do you say? Should we go inside and welcome you home?"


	28. Chapter 28

**_A/N: So I tried to put a little more fluffy goodness in this chapter before I wrap this story up. I hope you enjoy it with a chapter solely on our fun couple and some good moments with Henry. _**

As the days grew shorter and the leaves began to change on the trees, Emma admittedly became more comfortable settling into the house. At first she did not really mingle her belongings with Killian's, keeping to separate drawers and meticulously straightening up after herself that she wondered about a self-diagnosis of OCD. He merely watched and smiled, encouraging her on those moments when she slipped and might leave her socks on the floor or let her coffee mug sit in the sink a bit too long.

It was an old habit from the youth, a part of her that was hard to shake. She always had to be so careful to be perfect, never wanting to give a family reason to send her back or worse. It drew over her a feeling of needing to be perfect, which still stuck with her.

However, when a cold took its toll on her, she did seem to calm down a bit. Wrapped in a blanket on the couch with a fire crackling merrily in the fireplace, he found her there with a book open on her chest and her head thrown back against an oversized pillow. She was wearing one of his obscure band t-shirts and her favorite flannel sleep pants with a drooping pair of socks on her feet and her hair in a haphazard ponytail that she knew had to be full of knots and tangles. Her eyes were shut and her mouth thrown open in the position, a light snore from her congestion reverberated her chest.

While she had been so careful to be unobtrusive and the perfect roommate, she was surrounded by mess. Tissues littered the surface of an end table and its matching coffee table, as well as a bit of the rug covered floor. Half a glass of orange juice sat warmly on the table and splashes of it stained her shirt. There was a strong scent of menthol from Emma's attempts to find comfort from the congestion and her school work was strewn about from her attempts to keep up with her classes. Even her cell phone, with its waning power was half hidden between the cushions and the television remote.

He'd been stuck at a conference further inland for two days, having just found the opportunity to slip away. A bowl of chicken soup from Granny's and a grilled cheese were on the tray he held, along with an herbal tea that Mary Margaret swore was the closest thing to a cure for the common cold. He placed it carefully on the coffee table and sank to the floor there in front of her, removing the book and rubbing her hands with his own one hand. She had complained that she felt both hot and cold at the same time and it appeared to be true. Her face was flushed from the fever, but her hands and fingers were like ice.

"Hey," she said, her eyes fluttering and struggling to focus in on the dark haired man to the side of her. "You're home."

"I couldn't let you struggle through this cold without me," he said. "I brought you some lunch. How are you feeling?"

She grunted in her attempt to sit up straighter, a cough racking through her as she covered her mouth with her arm. "Like I died two days ago and they forgot to tell me." She blinked toward the tray. "I think it might be time to pull the plug."

"It's just a cold, darling," he said with a chuckle at her dramatics. "I think you'll live."

"You're one to talk," she muttered. "You had this same thing last week and were convinced it was some viral flu strain from the rainforest that was brought over by terrorists. You wanted me to call Homeland Security." Her voice was husky and strained, but she managed a little smile.

"I'd be willing to bet you believe me now," he said with a wry smile of his own. "Bloody fever had me hallucinating. You looked lovely with two heads by the way." Sitting back on his folded legs, he reached for the tea cup and handed it to her. "Drink this."

She frowned as he watched her lift the cup to her lips, rolling her eyes as he encouraged her to take a nice big gulp of it. "You do realize I haven't written out a will to leave you everything. If you're trying to kill me, it won't make you richer."

"Drink," he said firmly, shaking his head at her paranoia that seemed to grow as she got sick.

The warmth of the tea felt good as it slid down her throat, taking the edge off the knife like pain she had been experiencing. "Might work," she muttered before taking another sip. "But it isn't kind to prolong a patient's agony." She pulled the blanket tighter.

"So dramatic, love," he said, pushing off her comments that he had been just as prone to histrionics during his own battle. Instead, he lifted up her legs and sat down next to her on the couch, pulling her long limbs over his lap and helping her feed on the soup and sandwich between sips of the tea. She protested lightly, but he reminded her that she had cared for him during his convalescence as well as Henry's so this was probably their fault that she was ill.

With the food finished and the mess tidied, he came back to find her staring with unfocused eyes at a list of formulas for a pending math exam. Lifting the book out of her hands, he silenced her protest with a quick peck to her mouth and scooted back onto the couch with her. "You aren't going to retain a thing with this cold," he pointed out. "You need your rest."

She pouted in protest, weakly reaching out her arms and wiggling her fingers in a half-hearted attempt to reach the book. "But my test," she whined. "I can't pass it if I don't…"

"We'll get you all ready for it, but you have to sleep, love," he said. His eyes drifted toward the cheerful fire that seemed to add to the pleasantness of the room. Windows lined two of the four walls of the room with a bench that ran the length of the far wall where Emma and Killian both enjoyed sitting and watching the waves crash down below. Two soft leather sofas and a captain's chair made for plenty of room to sit or relax and antique lamps dotted the cherry wood tables to provide glowing light after the sun went down. A tall entertainment center stood on the far wall with matching doors that could be pulled shut to hide the equipment and Henry's growing game collection. "How did you build such a nice fire?" he asked, realizing she hardly seemed up for the task in her state.

"Elsa came to visit this morning," Emma offered, nestling into the crook of his arm and using his chest as her pillow. "She built it for me before she left."

"And how is the lovely bride to be?" he asked. He had come to find Elsa amusing and could see the strong bond between the two women. He loved to hear stories of their adventures together, stake outs that had gone in different directions and bad double dates where one or the other feigned sick so they could leave the men. And though he'd only met her twice so far, Anna was even more amusing to him with her fast talking and completely unfiltered mouth that streamed anything that came to mind. If she thought it, she said it.

"She's good," Emma said a bit sleepily. "She's trying to decide between heat lamps and torches for the wedding."

"You do realize she and Will are sodding fools to plan an outdoor ceremony in December in Maine," he said, his chuckle vibrating against her ear. "We could be waist deep in snow for it."

"That would be just up her ally," Emma said, punctuating her comment with a little cough. "According to Anna, Elsa was skiing and sledding before she could walk. She loves the snow and ice. I think a wedding in the snow is just what she wants."

Killian's hand was traveling aimlessly along the curve of her side, fingers brushing over her warm and cold skin as he relished the way she pulled herself into him as if she could not be close enough. "And you?" he asked, his voice hitching a bit, the way it did when he was nervous about something. "What type of wedding would you like?"

She had scoffed when he mentioned the idea once before, but she was so relaxed into him now that she did not pull away. "Maybe something outdoors on the beach," she said drowsily. "But not in the winter. I would rather it be warm and sunny."

He wasn't sure if she even realized what she was saying to him, admitting that she had thought of marrying him enough to have an answer regarding plans. She was usually so guarded with such things, telling him she thought of her dreams and desires like wishes from a blowing out a birthday candle. Giving the words over to him might mean they could not come true.

While he had not proposed, as four months seemed far too soon for that, he couldn't help but think about such a life with her and Henry. He wanted everything with her, marriage, kids, growing old together. And as with every other moment in their life as a couple, he had vowed to be patient. She was a curious one with her standoffish behavior that usually led to one moment where she gave into what she wanted. He loved those moments, the look on her face as she realized that she had been fighting the one thing that would make her happiest, the annoyance that he did not realize she had lowered that wall, and the way she could act as though it had never been an issue.

Holding her there as sleep claimed her again, he smiled and buried his own face against her. She would fight him, but he knew that someday she would let him place a wedding ring on her finger. He promised himself that he would never take her or Henry for granted, knowing firsthand how fleeting life could be when he wasn't expecting it.

***AAA***

Emma made him swear that he wasn't planning anything for her birthday, straddling him one morning after his shower. She was fully dressed her hair hung over them like a curtain as she stared pointedly into his eyes and made him vow that she wasn't the subject of some elaborate plan to celebrate the day of her birth. "I don't like surprises," she told him, her hands holding his arms over his head. "I will never forgive you."

"Duly noted, love," he said, smiling at her vehement denial that she wanted a birthday party. He had already told Ruby to cool it with the plans and to put her efforts toward Mary Margaret's baby shower and Elsa's bachelorette party instead. "No parties. No big deal."

She sat up straighter, a denim clad thigh on either side of his towel covered hips. "Good," she said skeptically. "I don't like surprises."

"I thought we might take a weekend away. Everyone is well again. You're caught up at school and passed both your midterms." His smirk ignored the fact that she is straddling him and clearly had the upper hand. "Maybe some little out of the way place in the country or down the coast a bit?"

"I think we need to worry more about getting to school and less about vacations," Emma said, dropping her mouth onto his for a short and only somewhat satisfying kiss. Attempting to roll off of him, she giggled as he took advantage of her loosened grip and ran his hand up her thigh to her waist.

"We could start the celebration early…right here and now?" His head was a couple of inches off the bed as if to chase her as she continued to disentangle herself from him. "Emma?"

"We don't have enough time," she said warningly, glancing in the mirror and swiping her brush through her hair. "Maybe later?"

"I can be fast," he said petulantly. "I promise."

Looking back at him, the dark blue towel resting low on his hips and the water droplets still glistening on his dark chest hair, she could see the frustration in his dark eyes as she half walked and half sashayed out of the door. "You're never fast," she called over her shoulder. "That's one of the things I love about you." She was already in the hallway when she heard his deep and discouraged whimper.

Emma made her way down the polished stairs to the landing that allowed her to go to the front door or right into the kitchen or left into the living room. Her son was perched on one of the leather covered stools that flanked the island with a bowl of cereal in front of him. His eyes were on his phone as he circled his spoon in the bowl, sloshing the milk dangerously close to the edges. His hair had grown out again, uneven and hanging into his eyes. She pushed it back. "Me, you, a haircut this weekend, kid," She said, kissing his cheek.

"Morning to you too," he muttered, looking back at his phone.

"You know that this phone is for emergencies. So that had better be some really tough homework." She sidled past him and dug around in the cabinet until she found the coffee pod she wanted. Her son's dark eyes did not rise up to meet hers, his thumb hovering over the phone. "Spill it, Henry. I've got 10 minutes. Tell me what's going on or the phone's battery goes goodbye."

Her son was wearing his Storybrooke Academy uniform sans tie, which was lying on the counter next to him. She had noticed that it was always the last item he put on each day and the first that he removed. According to Mary Margaret and the other teachers, he was doing well with his classwork and thriving. He had made a few friends and even slept over at one's house just the other weekend. "There's a dance at school," he said with a dramatic sigh. "And, well, Nicholas and I kind of like the same girl. We both wanted to ask her to the dance." He absently spun the spoon again. "I think she likes him more."

Exhaling through her nose, Emma tried to bite back the automatic response that her son was too young for such worries. She almost told him to forget the dance and she would buy him a new video game to play or even take him to the movies, but that would just delay the inevitable. He clearly was struggling with that line between loyal friendship and the potential for something more at the cost of it. "How do you know who she likes?" Emma asked in what she hoped was a neutral tone. "Did she say something?"

"She doesn't have to," he said, slamming the phone down. "She ate lunch with him yesterday and then this morning he texted to say that she wants to be his partner in science lab today. I don't stand a chance."

Emma slammed the lid down on the coffee maker a little too forcefully. "Well, it sounds to me like your friend seems to be putting himself out there. Why don't you see if there is a way for you to spend time with her? Or maybe there is another girl…"

"There is no other girl."

Emma rolled her eyes. "There has to be another girl. Someone from one of your classes or the bus. What about that girl…Killian's friend Jefferson is her father? What's her name?"

"That's the girl I'm talking about, Mom," he answered as if she would know the dating options of the middle grades at the day school. She was wracking her brain to see if he had ever mentioned her before.

"Fine then," Emma said, hearing the coffee machine hiss to life. "What about Ava? Does she have a date?" Inwardly she groaned to use that word with her son. She was silently apologizing to any foster parent or group home leader who had to deal with her dating. Her black shirt buttoned down the front and felt silky under her red leather jacket that had been hanging on the bannister. "You liked her this summer."

"Guys don't date their friend's sisters." He sound affronted that she would suggest something so horrible.

"That's a good rule to have," Killian spoke up, entering the room and pecking Emma on the cheek before he searched for his own coffee pod. "But it depends on the situation. Is this Ava in need of a date for some event? Would it benefit…"

"I don't need advice," Henry cried out, jumping down from the stool so fast that it swayed from the effort. He righted it just in time and grabbed his backpack from the other. Palm held up, he shoved the phone toward his mother. "Here…"

"Just watch the minutes," Emma said, cradling her coffee mug in her hands. "I don't need any surprises on the bill this month. And as for what's her name, don't worry. If she can't see how great you are…"

"Then she isn't worth my time," Henry finished. When she looked surprised, the boy just shook his head. "Elsa said that to Anna at least 1,000 times. I know those magazines you guys read say the same stuff."

Killian chuckled as he tossed Emma a packet of sugar. "The lad's reading Cosmo now?" He ducked as both Emma and Henry looked offended by his words. A muttered apology was not very promising either and he concentrated on doctoring his coffee even though he usually drank it black. His black pants and vest were dark against his fair skin and the blue highlights of his patterned shirt complemented his eyes. Emma had joked that there were probably more than a few of the students who mentally undressed him every day that he lectured about cell structure and the makeup of ocean habitats.

"I don't want you setting your whole self-worth on whether or not a girl likes you or your friend better," Emma clarified. "You are more than just the object of someone's affections."

At his age, Henry was just coming to realization that he might not have to view girls as the enemy. Adding another layer to that meant that he was even more confused. "Got it," he muttered. "But it still sucks."

Sneaking a half a piece of wheat toast off Emma's plate and avoiding her attempted slapping of his hand, he pointed one end of the jelly and butter covered bread at the younger housemate. "I know it is not encouraging news, mate, but you'll find that a lass can be the most perplexing creature on this earth. You will find yourself at odds with logic and reason when you try to understand. It is often best just to accept and live for the moments where the girl might give you bit of attention." He winked at Emma, but her expression remained firmly dissatisfied.

"You're right," Henry said, slinging his bag over his shoulder and shoving the phone and neck tie into his pocket. "That wasn't exactly encouraging."

"Aye," Killian said, wrapping his hand around the coffee mug and his left arm around Emma's waist under her jacket. "But well worth the trouble when you find the right lass."

Making a face like he tasted something sour, Henry beat a hasty retreat out of the kitchen with the words that he was going out to meet the bus trailing after him and punctuated by the slamming door. Emma laughed, leaning against him as she enjoyed the warmth of the coffee.

***AAA***

Emma worried that Killian might have planned something for her October birthday, but true to his promise he didn't. He and Henry both hid little presents around the house, not making a big deal out of presenting them to her and letting her find them on her own. There was a book she had been wanting to read sitting next to the coffee maker that morning. Then there was a watch resting upon her clothes after her shower. Nothing was too elaborate, but it was enough to show that her guys were obviously thinking of her on the cool and crisp Friday. Their friends dropped off little gifts, baskets of goodies, gift certificates, and funny or touching cards.

Usually Fridays were a work day for her and a day of chartered fishing trips for Killian, but both took the day off. He even hid her text books from her and told her that she was not going to spend the day studying when he had much better plans in mind. Waiting for the sun to warm the air a little bit, they ate their breakfast in front of the windows that overlooked the ocean and shared a few kisses and caresses that she admonished him for playfully and then sank into gleefully.

As she watched him put the last of the dishes into the dishwasher, she could not quit smiling. His own smile was evident with a bump of his hip to close the door to the appliance. "I didn't quite picture this," she admitted, resting her chin in the palm of one of her hands. "When I first met you, I didn't see this life or situation."

Coming around the counter in his own jeans and dark sweater, he waggled his eyebrows in that way she had come to see as the precursor to some flirty comment or innuendo. She steadied herself because despite the cheesiness of some of his lines, he always managed to make her feel butterflies. "You were a stubborn lass," he said, closing that distance between them and his breath warm on the shell of her ear. "But I wore you down."

She giggled, slapping at his chest as he yanked her up off the stool toward him. "So you think that it was your persistence and not the power of our love for each other?" Her back arched backward to deny him or at least delay their kiss. "I rather think it was my realizing my love for you that did it."

"Only because of my persistence, Swan," he insisted, his mouth following hers as she continued to wiggle just out of reach. "A lesser man would have given up and accepted it the 200 times you said nothing would happen between us, but I just wanted you in my life whether it was as a friend or a lover. This is much better than just friends though, darling."

"Much better," she sighed, stilling herself so that their lips could meet. Their kiss was a bit lazy and soft, a perfect combination of a day off and the gentleness that was coming to be a signature of their relationship. There were times when their desires were hungrier or more carnal, but there was also an ease to them that seemed unhurried and at times sweet. When his lips trailed from her mouth with a whine of protest from his own doing, she sighed and wrapped herself tighter around his torso. "We need to get to packing. Henry's going to be home soon."

His mouth did not stop immediately, nipping at the skin just above her ruby red sweater. "I have plans for this weekend that don't include that many clothes," he muttered in mock protest. "Just me and you and…"

She wasn't sure if it was her renewed attempts to distance them by arching backwards or the shrill tone of his phone bleating insensitively that dissuaded him, but he pulled back and answered the call with a curt hello to whoever was on the other end of the line. It was enough for Emma kiss his stubble covered cheek and pull away toward the stairs to pack overnight bags for them. They were just driving to some cabin about two hours away, but she wanted them to have everything they would need. It wasn't exactly a romantic getaway with Henry coming along, but Killian had said he thought the idea of the three of them getting away together sounded like a fine plan.

***AAA***

Emma was visibly enthralled by the rich reds, yellows, oranges, and browns of the trees that lined the two lane road on the way to the cabin. She reasoned that her city living had only let her catch glimpses of such beauty before, but now she was surrounded by it. Turned sideways in the jeep's passenger seat, she would point out picturesque spots and even begged Killian to stop a time or two so she could snap a photograph of an overlook or of some deteriorating barn that seemed to blend seamlessly into the landscape. They took selfies in front of a babbling brook and even in front of a cow pasture when Henry showed a bit of enthusiasm over seeing so many of the lumbering animals at once. Their stops added an hour to the drive time, but none of them seemed to mind as they pulled in next to the cabin just after dusk.

"It's beautiful," Emma said as Killian and Henry brushed off her attempts to help with the luggage. "I bet it is even better in the daylight." Her hand touched at her neck where Killian's gift of an anchor pendant now rested next to her signature circle necklace.

The cabin was fully equipped though a bit on the simple side. A large living space with modern kitchen was flanked on either side by a bedroom and bathroom. A covered porch ran the length of the front of the cabin with rocking chairs situated for the best view of a lake that they couldn't quite see in the dark. Up a full flight of stairs was another bedroom and bath with a balcony overlooking a similar view.

After a leisurely dinner with cupcakes to celebrate Emma's birthday, the three settled in to watch a movie on the biggest television that any of them had ever seen. "Nothing about serial killers roaming the woods," Emma said as Henry inspected the selections. "I would like to sleep tonight."

Killian chuckled, wrapping an arm loosely around her. "I can protect you," he muttered against her golden hair that she tied loosely over one shoulder. She slapped his chest and reminded him that if Henry got scared from the movie that they would likely all be sleeping in the same bed.

They settled on a comedy and giggled their way through bank heists that went bad and ridiculously sequenced car chases that involved wild animals and a stop at a fast food restaurant as the police pursued. While Emma rolled her eyes at the portrayals, Henry and Killian laughed so hard that she began to wonder if either of them could still breathe. At one point Henry choked on his popcorn so hard that Killian had to whack his back to get him back to rights.

By the time it was over Henry's eyes were drooping and his head had lolled over onto Emma's shoulder. She smoothed down his messy hair, leaning her own cheek onto the top. Killian, having disentangled himself from the oversized throw they were sharing and her embrace, puttered around to clean up the popcorn bowls and empty drinks. He paused on his return from the kitchen, finding Henry now asleep and Emma holding him loosely.

"I know that he takes after Neal, but I am seeing more and more of you in him," he said so softly that he would not wake the sleeping child. "You both do that thing with your nose when you are asleep as if you were a rabbit."

Emma touched the tip of her own nose lightly. "I have noticed that about him, but I didn't know I did it." She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in deeply. "He's growing up too fast. He used to be my little buddy. He'd follow me anywhere and wanted to be just like me. I know it is natural for him to grow up, but it hurts. I miss the little guy who had a security blanket and wanted to snuggle on Sunday mornings while we ate poptarts and talked about the latest cartoon he was into then."

Killian looked at the peaceful scene before him with a bit of a wistful smile. "I've never had a child, but I still long for those days when Liam and I used to be kids. We would sneak into each other's beds and read comic books under the covers. I always fell asleep first and he'd let me stay there." He perched himself on the arm of a chair and ran his hand down his own face. "Or my mother loved to read. She had the sweetest voice and would read aloud to us from letters from her relatives. I would be under one of her arms and Liam under the other as she told us of her own childhood or some silly tale that had to be made up."

Emma smiled back at him, imagining him as a child with bright eyed excitement and gangly arms that would be eager to hug. "It's a shame," she said, shifting to prop her son up in a better position. "When Henry was a baby and then a toddler, I felt very lost. I was working two jobs to make ends meet. He needed so much attention. I didn't stop and appreciate it then. I was so busy thinking of how to get from one thing to the next. I wish I could go back and experience that again, really enjoy those days."

"Is that your birthday wish, love?" he asked, almost teasingly.

She wrinkled her nose and shook her head slightly. "No, you know I wouldn't tell you that. But I think it is safe to say that maybe someday I would like the chance to be a mom again without the two jobs, crappy apartments, and worries about money and bills."

He almost teased her again, asking if she had a father picked out yet, but he held back. There was such a rawness in her at that moment that he knew she was revealing something she might regret if he treated it lightly. Instead, he just gave his own nod and said he would like such an experience too, trying not to picture the sights that flickered through his mind. "Did you have a good birthday?" he asked. "I know you aren't a big fan of celebrating it."

"It's been perfect," she said, her toes wiggling under the blanket. "I got to spend it with my two favorite guys."

***AAA***

The next morning the three hiked a trail around the small lake, took more photos than any knew what to do with, and managed to find themselves looking at antique stores in a small town as Henry found a comic book store where he happily buried himself in the adventures of superheroes. He'd already texted Emma twice to ask for an advance on his allowance to buy more of the tales.

Killian walked beside Emma with his arm thrown around her and stopping her every few feet to brush a strand of hair out of her face or chastely kiss her when he couldn't resist. People seemed to smile at them and make pleased clucking sounds at their obvious affection for each other. He was admittedly proud of his relationship with her, pleased beyond belief to have her there on his arm.

"Look at that table," Emma said as they entered another of the shops. "It's beautiful." She ran her free hand along the carved edge and smiles. In the end she had to practically restrain him from buying it, telling him she was just admiring it and did not need it at all.

They ended up doing more window shopping than anything, buying only a few trinkets and some freshly jarred maple syrup that they both sampled and loved. And in one of the few moments away from each other, he gazed at a display of jewelry at one of the pricier shops, his eyes settling on a ring that he could picture shining brightly from Emma's hand. He knew it was too soon for such a gesture, but his gut instinct got the better of him and for the rest of the day it sat safely in his jacket's interior pocket without her knowledge.

***AAA***

Killian found Henry down by the water near dinner time, the boy staring out at the water with a gloomy expression. "Your mother was looking for you, mate," Killian said, brushing the fallen leaves off of the bench of an ancient picnic table. "Dinner is almost ready."

Henry's fingers were wrapped around a twig, bending it almost to the breaking point and then letting it go back to shape. "I'll come in soon," he said, staring toward the glassy water without blinking.

Though he knew Emma's son was essentially telling him to go back and leave him alone, Killian sat silently for a moment and studied Henry's expression. "Is this about that lass? The one you and your friend both like?"

Shaking his head no, he frowned down at the stick. "My mom's happy," he said as though that might be the worst thing ever. "She's doing okay and…"

Killian watched worry sink Henry's expression even more. "And?" he prodded.

"And she used to need me. I know I'm just a kid, but she confided in me. She relied on me. She'd have a tough day at work and I'd tell her some story about school that would make her laugh so that everything was alright again." He shook his head again. "She has you for that now. You make her smile. You are the one she looks for at the end of a bad day. I'm just the extra baggage." Though he was about to turn 13, he looked incredibly young in his thick coat and sweater, his cheeks pink from the wind that was picking up briskly.

"Whoa," Killian said, holding his palm out toward Henry. "Your mom is not replacing you with me. She loves you so much that she doesn't let an hour go by that she hasn't mentioned you or talked about you. While we were shopping earlier, she took photos of things she thought would make you smile on her phone. She's planning to show them to you tonight."

One of the last remaining birds in the area that had not gone south yet swooped at the glassy water and then returned to its perch in a branch nearby. Its voice was loud and clear along the quiet oasis. "You're going to marry her, aren't you?" Henry asked.

Killian gulped and fought the urge to pat his jacket pocket, as he had not even found time to hide the ring in his overnight bag. "Is that something that would bother you?" he asked, not sure if Henry's complaint was about him.

The boy shrugged.

"Henry, I love your mother and I care a great deal about you. So if I were to ask your mother to marry me, I would only do so with your permission. No surprises, okay?"

"You've been great," Henry said finally, turning his head so that Killian could not fully see him. "I don't want you to think that I'm not liking being around you." The frown was becoming set even deeper. "I just feel like if you were to marry her that things would be different. You two would be your own family. You'd probably have kids or something. They'd be yours."

Killian saw where he was going with this and his heart ached for the boy who just wanted to be a part of a family. "Henry, you had a father who died way too young and too soon. I would never think that I could replace him, as he loved you very much, I'm quite sure. But rest assured, whatever happens with your mother, I fully intend to be a part of your life. I care too much about you to pretend like we never met."

Considering that bit of information, Henry's ministrations with the twig gave way to it breaking. "I think it would be okay," Henry said finally. "I mean if you want to marry her."

Killian grinned bumping his shoulder against Henry. "I would ask her today if I thought she'd say yes, but I fear she is not ready for that jump yet."

"Maybe not," Henry said as he threw the two sticks down. "But I bet she will be."

******_Please let me know what you're thinking. _**


	29. Chapter 29

_**A/N: Not summer any more in this story, but we'll get there again. Thank you all for your reviews, comments, and messages. I love getting the notification that someone took the time to tell me what they are thinking, what they liked, how it made them feel, or how they stayed up all night reading this. Hope you enjoy this chapter.**_

"David!" Mary Margaret called out cheerfully, her eyes dancing with mischief as she brushed off the concerned looks of Emma, Elsa, Ruby, and Aurora. "I'm fine. I just want to bother him," she said more quietly before calling out his name again.

Jogging in from the other room in a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt with logo of a college he had not even attended, David Nolan frowned at his wife's helpless expression. "Is there something you needed?" he asked cautiously. At 34 weeks pregnant, Mary Margaret had told him it was a bad idea to host the large Thanksgiving meal, but he had insisted and told her that he would do all the heavy lifting. She was taking him at his word.

"I need to baste the turkey," she said, no hint of apology in her voice. She held up the baster as a demonstration of her need to get this done.

He nodded and opened the hot oven to fill the room with the scents of the pies a casserole and the turkey. Emma and Ruby both busily returned to chopping vegetables while Elsa and Aurora inspected the wine selections. His looks to the other women went unreturned. Following his wife's instructions, he carefully slid out the bird and then basted the monstrosity just as she told him.

"I do know how to cook," he reminded her. "I have made our Thanksgiving meals for years now."

Mary Margaret nodded distractedly. "That's all I need," she said. "We have it under control."

Aurora bit back a giggle as David slowly backed his way out of the room as if he might be beckoned again at any moment. When his wife did not call out to him again, he finally gave up and rushed into the other room. "You have him running ragged," she admonished lightheartedly. "David looks ready to drop."

Mary Margaret stuck a baby carrot in her mouth and bit. "Serves him right," she said in an uncharacteristically stubborn way. "He won't let me do anything. I got up to go to the bathroom and he about tackled me and told me never to move that fast again."

Emma could feel her own laughter rising in her throat as she concentrated on chopping, not wanting to diminish Mary Margaret's feelings. She was already amused by the clear lines of delineation that had the women in the kitchen and the men sitting around the television as the children played in the basement rec room. It was such a stereotype, but one that Mary Margaret had insisted on as she peppered Elsa with questions about the wedding, Aurora questions about when she and Philip would have another baby, and Emma about any future plans with Killian. Men were simply not welcome, she had told them.

It was such a family atmosphere that Emma almost wanted to take a photo of it. She was used to watching the parade on television and snacking on deli turkey with Henry rather than big elaborate meals. Over the past two years that has included a small get together with Anna, Elsa, and Kristoff, but still nothing on this scale.

"I thought people went home to their families on Thanksgiving," Emma said to Killian when he told her that he always went to his friends' houses. "It's sort of a family holiday."

Killian had shrugged and said he supposed that was a tradition, but not in Storybrooke. "You'll find, love, that most of our friends either don't have a lot of family or they aren't close to them. As a group we've sort of created our own family. We tease. We fight. We love each other. It works out just as well."

Emma realized that he was actually right. There was a family atmosphere to the Nolan family Thanksgiving that was genuine and real despite the lack of DNA. They welcomed each other as long lost loves, hugging and inspecting as if they had not seen each other in years rather than days. Their own traditions had come to life with time honored casseroles that certain people brought or the fact that Ruby refused to cook but always brought Granny and some of the diner's special desserts. Emma came to learn that David was the go to man for the end of the meal. People piled their plates high and usually finished when he began to pat his stomach and say how they had too much. Aurora and Philip usually ducked out of the clean-up duty, falling asleep on the couch. Conversely, Ashley was the first to begin the clean-up duty and pushed others out of the way if they weren't doing it right.

The Nolans' house on Thanksgiving was a bustling center of activity with football game pre-shows on the television in the living room and the parade on the one in the kitchen. Folding tables and chairs were pulled out to make room for all the couples and families that were attending. Michael even came with his twins – Ava and Nicholas so Henry was happily engaged with his classmates as they acted both uninterested and curious about the goings on in the kitchen. David had refused to allow his pregnant wife to lift anything that he deemed too heavy, which left her both annoyed and playful with the repercussions.

"David," she called out again, biting into another carrot from her perch on a stool at the kitchen island. "I need someone to strain the potatoes." She smiled sweetly as he entered the room.

"Of course," he said, ignoring the perfectly capable assistants she had in the kitchen. Placing the now ready potatoes in front of her, he pulled a knife out of the block and handed it to her without being asked, kissed her temple and backed his way out of the room only to hear the chime of the doorbell.

"Get that, would you?" she asked pleasantly. "It should be Ruby, Ashley, or Anna."

The expectant mother's teasing lasted through dinner as she made her husband get her new silverware when she "accidentally" dropped hers and when she wanted juice instead of water since they were proposing toasts with the wine. Despite the fact that not everyone knew each other, the conversation flowed easily. Belle and Anna were comparing some of their favorite stories, including what Anna should be reading to her baby for better brain development. Ruby, who was there without Victor due to his hospital schedule, had struck up a conversation with Michael and Granny was learning about Kristoff's ice cream shop business and discussing the difference between frozen yogurt, ice cream, and gelato. From her spot in the dining room Emma could see the table that had been designated as the kids' table where Henry and Nicholas were building towers out of the mashed potatoes as Ava looked amused and disgusted by their activities. Roland was trying to do the same thing.

"I'm not sure she likes this mush," Emma said to Ashley, holding the young Alexandra in her arms so that the mother could eat a bit in peace. "Or maybe it's just me. It's been a long time since I fed a baby."

"You're doing fine," the blonde Ashley said, squinting her eyes in a smile. "A natural. She can be pretty fussy with people, but she's really taken to you."

Emma smiled down the towheaded little girl, her crooked smile evident as she licked her lips to taste more of the sweet potato puree. Feeling the intense gaze of Killian on her, she shifted the little girl slightly in her grasp. "Does Uncle Killian want to help?" she asked, her voice more melodic and playful.

"Uncle Killian is not very good at that," he said warily, reaching out his hand to smooth the little girl's dress. "He'd just make a mess."

Ashley raised her eyebrows and took a big bite of turkey. "It's good practice," her husband said with a chuckle. "You never know."

***AAA***

The autumn leaves that had so enthralled Emma made way for colder weather and the first snow fall just after Thanksgiving, which was spent in a massive snowball fight between Killian and Henry. Emma chose to stay inside and made a big pot of stew and once the snow war was over even Henry got in on the act by helping Killian make an apple crumble from the apples they had picked one weekend. By December they were warm and cozy in the house, having decorated for the holiday season with more fervor than any of them had ever imagined. Killian had suggest that Henry be in charge of the decorations, which grew and grew each day. By the time they had finished (ran out of lights and tinsel), even the bathrooms had miniature trees and a wreath hung from each window. That in itself had taken a team of the guys (Robin, Killian, David, and Will) on ladders with the women laughing inside by a warm fire as Henry reported the disastrous happenings by running back and forth between the groups and Roland trailing him and repeating most of the same words.

While they had said there would be no secrets in their home, Killian and Emma were using every available space to hide presents and sneakily question each other about likes and dislikes. Henry had gotten in on the action too, earning a bit of extra money from Will who was cleaning out the garage of a house he and Elsa were buying and David who needed assistance painting the nursery for the new baby.

Just a few days before Elsa and Will's wedding, Emma ran down the stairs with Henry's uniform sport coat in her hand, freshly pressed for the holiday concert at the school. Skidding in her stocking covered feet, she frowned as she saw no sign of her son in the house. "Henry?" she called two or three times before Killian stepped into the house stamping the newly fallen snow off of his boots.

"David and Mary Margaret picked him up a few minutes ago, love. You just missed him."

Her face fell, the jacket still held out by her hands. "But his jacket," she said. "I just ironed it."

"He was supposed to wear a Christmas sweater instead," he explained, tossing the evening newspaper onto the bench they had bought as a place to sit and put on boots, scarves and hats. "David was loaning him one."

Emma's brow furrowed with that news as she marched her way back into the kitchen to look at the reminder bulletin board they had started using. Someone always had an event or activity. For Killian there were chartered trips or faculty senate meetings. For Emma it was work or school, study groups and tutoring sessions. Henry was playing two sports, a member of the student council, and now a member of the school chorus. "I missed that note completely," she said, dropping his jacket onto the pile of laundry. "You do realize that officially makes me…"

"A loving mother who didn't read instructions," Killian said gently. "It's hardly the end of the world." His hand reached out and smoothed the lines on her worried forehead, dropping a kiss onto it next.

"I feel like I'm being pulled in 12 directions at once," she complained. "I don't know how…" Turning her head, she glanced at the clock on the stove and groaned. "We have to get going if we're going to hear 12 Days of Christmas Storybrooke style." The dark circles under her eyes were a bit troubling as she pulled away and sighed.

"Love, I was thinking…" He waited until she yanked her coat off of the hat tree there in the foyer and shoved her arms through it. She spun and looked at him, resigned to something he could not quite place.

"You don't have to go with me," she said. "It's just a school thing. I wouldn't go if I didn't have to." She shrugged. "I missed his game the other day because of my final exam. I didn't want to miss this too."

"No, sweetheart, I wasn't suggesting anything of the sort. I was just thinking that perhaps we could take the lad out for a snack after the concert? We could celebrate you both surviving your first terms here in Storybrooke." He flashed a smile at her. "Maybe some hot cocoa and some of that rum cake from Granny's? I'm sure she'd like to make a good fuss over the lad."

***AAA***

Killian was right, Granny was generously doting on the young singer, giving him an extra bit of whipped cream and cinnamon on his hot chocolate, as well as an extra large cookie to take home.

"You weren't bored?" Henry asked, wiping the whipped cream off his lip with the back of his hand. "I was bored and I was up there singing."

"It was a brilliant show, mate," Killian assured him while they waited on Emma to finish her discussion with Ruby. "Quite the entertainment for a sleepy town."

Henry smiled proudly, the chocolate cake all but disappeared from his plate and the silly sweater with the big eyed reindeer still brightly glowering from across the table. He looked relaxed, as there was just one more day of school before he would be on break. "Do you think you could drive me to that shop we saw? I want to buy something for my mom, but with the snow it's hard to sneak over there."

Killian leaned in a bit across the table and grinned, glad to be part of the conspiracy. "Your mom's next shift is Monday. We'll go then? And perhaps you can help me with a bit of my shopping too."

Henry nodded enthusiastically, picking back up his cup as his mother arrived with more doting praise for the job he had done. Trying his best to be humble, Henry could not help the small and proud grin that kept popping up on his face. That was especially true when his mother spoke so highly of him.

***AAA***

True to form, Elsa and Will's wedding was outside, but the inclusion of heaters and warming stations made most everyone comfortable. Emma and Anna served as her attendants, while Kristoff and Robin served as Will's. Without the inclusion of custom vows or extras, the ceremony was blessedly short and most of the interaction took part at the reception. Still, the ceremony was beautiful with a snowy backdrop that seemed to glisten in the muted sunlight. While Elsa wore a traditional white gown with a delicate cape for warmth, Emma and Anna were outfitted in ice blue dresses that seemed to blend seamlessly with the ice covered theme.

Emma was the first of the three ladies to walk down the aisle as the only bride's maid, shooting a sympathetic look to Will who had been made to wait a few minutes after a problem with Anna's shoe. Dropping her gaze from the groom to the two dozen or so witnesses, she settled on Killian and Henry, who to her amusement wore matching suits to the event.

"They match," Emma had said when she saw them hanging for her inspection in the kitchen. "Why do they match?"

"I picked mine out and he picked out his," Henry said, a reddish tint spreading over his face. His dark eyes did not meet either of the adults. "It just happened that they matched."

"We thought they made us look quite dashing, love," Killian added, pulling out a pan to cook dinner. It was one of his humblest expressions, his head lowered a bit and a nervous twitch to his lips. "It was hard to decide who should have the honor of looking the best for you."

So they stood there in their matching suits, watching as Emma walked steadily down the aisle with a delicate nosegay of a bouquet in her hands. She wore the softest smiles, matching their more exuberant ones as Killian rested his hand on Henry's shoulder and her son turned and said something to him. During the ceremony she alternated her attention between the bride and groom and her guys there in the small gathering people.

The reception was elegantly decorated and included the passed appetizers and drinks that included a frozen hot chocolate that was a big hit. The adult version included liberal amounts of rum, but the children had their own version too.

David handed Killian one of the drinks and made a mock toasting motion with his own. "You do realize that everyone is wondering when you're going to pop the question?" he asked, gesturing with his glass toward Emma. The blonde mother was dancing with her son, laughing at something he said as she twirled him around to everyone's amusement. The pre-teen blushed at the attention, but he was smiling and laughing as his mother attempted to dip him and ended up with both of them almost on the floor in a pile.

"That's all up to her, mate," Killian answered, his eyes following Emma as she moved to the music so effortlessly. "She is a little skittish about such things."

"I'd say she's getting more comfortable," David observed. "She doesn't run for her life if I mention you. She lights up when you're near her. Don't forget, I was standing there at the wedding today when she saw you. That's a woman who isn't planning to say no should the question be asked."

Killian thought about making a comment regarding David's keen sense of observation, but he refrained. "Soon, David, soon," he said with a sigh.

Their conversation was interrupted by the squeals of Roland as he broke free from Regina and headed straight for the wedding cake that was displayed on a glass table. The three layers of frosting and pastry was decorated with precision, lilies, buttercups, and crocuses made out of sugar and fondant decorated the surface.

"Come see the cake," the sprite of a boy called to Killian, his fingers wiggling in the man's direction. "It's big!"

Killian laughed, scooping up the boy into his arms and carrying him over to be just out of reach of the sugary confection. "It is big," Killian agreed, laughing at the boy's eagerness to taste it. "We have to wait for the bride and groom to cut it."

"Why?" Roland asked, his dark eyes round with both delight and confusion. "I just want a little piece."

"Not yet," Killian said, taking a step backward to ensure that the boy was out of the way of the cake. "Let's find something else to eat." The boy protested, but still clung to his "uncle" in hopes of a treat. The man bounced the boy slightly eliciting a giggle and a squeal as they made their way over to the buffet that included various desserts.

Settling the boy back with his father and a good plate of chocolate and cream delicacies, Killian made his way back to where Emma was now sitting. Her hair was no longer in the loose up style, but cascaded down her shoulders in almost messy curls. Despite the chilly temperatures outside, her cheeks were flushed from her dancing and her breath came out in little puffs.

"I'm a bit jealous," he said, dropping into the seat next to her and scooting it closer. "I had hoped to dance with you at this event, but you've clearly worn yourself out."

"I'm fine," she said, grinning at him. "I just wanted the chance to dance with my son before he fully enters that hatched from an egg, parentless, embarrassed about everything stage."

"Perhaps I might steal you away for a dance or two in a few minutes then," he said, gesturing with his head toward the dance floor where Will and Elsa were dancing closely. "I would call it a successful venture. Nobody froze and the two of them are now married." His left arm was over the back of her chair, unable to resist the urge to hold her even in such a slack fashion.

Smoothing a hand over the satin of her dress, Emma smiled. "You're easy to please, Killian. That's a good thing for me to know."

"I think you already know the ease at which you seem to make me happy, Emma," he said sincerely, taking a sip of the frozen hot chocolate drink that had been liberally laced with rum. Despite calling it a bloody waste of a good rum, he had not quit drinking the signature concoctions.

"You're doing a pretty good job of making me happy too."

***AAA***

Elsa stood in front of the window staring out at the snow covered landscape and laughing as her sister asked had she packed an extra bikini for her honeymoon. The idea that in a few hours she and Will would be on the sandy white beaches of Aruba seemed so odd when everything around them was frozen solid.

"You're going to be back in a week," Emma said, hugging her tightly and laughing as Anna emitted a sob. "We're not sending you away. It's just a vacation."

Glancing back at her sister, Elsa reached for the bouquet she had carried and pressed it into Emma's hands. "There isn't much sense in me throwing this thing. Ruby said she would bat it away and Belle's a widow so it's too soon for her to think about marriage or even dating. Everyone else is too young or too old to care. So I'm just handing this to you. I want you to have it anyway."

"Is this you telling me to make an honest man out of Killian?" Emma laughed, the flowers tied with a ribbon feeling extraordinarily heavy in her hands. "Because I think the way things are…"

Both sisters sighed in exasperation. "He's going to propose," Elsa said. "Knowing him, he's got the ring and is just waiting on the perfect moment. Knowing you, you're in denial and will be surprised. You'll come up with a thousand reasons why this won't work. And then you'll finally give in and marry the dork." She placed one hand on each shoulder. "You could ask him?"

Anna giggled at the thought. "Emma," she said, her fingers busily fussing with the zipper on Elsa's bag, "it is okay to admit you're happy. We can see that you are. Everyone can see that you are. It's okay. You don't have to keep waiting on the other shoe to drop or the bottom to fall out. I don't even know where those expressions come from, but that doesn't matter. You love him. He loves you. He's crazy about Henry. And while your son is clearly as neurotic as you, he's crazy about Killian too."

"This is Elsa's wedding day," Emma said, brushing off their comments. "We should keep celebrating her relationship, not mine."

Elsa squeezed Emma's shoulders and then released her. "You were great at dodgeball as a child, weren't you?" she asked sardonically. "You are the queen of deflection."

***AAA***

Killian did get his wish to dance with Emma, as the couple stayed on at the party long after Elsa and Will made their way to their hotel suite for one night before flying out. He had been playful during the faster songs and sweet during the slower ones. They swayed to a romantic ballad, her head on his shoulder and face buried into his neck. He held her hand against his chest, breathing in the scent of her.

"We should get going soon," she muttered, not pulling away from him to match her words. Henry had long since lost his energy and was drooped back in one of the chairs with his feet resting in another. His hands were loosely holding his gaming device as yawns wracked his body. "Some of us have to work tomorrow."

He hummed his response, feeling her eyelashes flutter against the skin of his neck. "In case I didn't tell you," he said in a practically whispered tone, "you look beautiful, love."

"You and the compliments," she teased, leaning her head back to look at him. "Are you trying to get lucky tonight, mister?"

His dimples flashed as he smiled mischievously at her. "I already am lucky, Swan. Though I certainly wouldn't refuse…"

"I think you already know the answer to that," she said, her grin not masked. "Chances are pretty good."

The music continued as the crowd dwindled. People said their goodbyes, but Killian and Emma stayed pretty much to themselves at that point. She'd joked that she had been social enough for that day to last a lifetime, as it was not really her style to be a social butterfly. He'd agreed, giving a few nods of acknowledgement to those who waved their farewells. It wasn't until David rushed back into the room with panic evident in his body that they actually pulled apart.

"Ruby!" David called to the raven haired beauty by the band. "Where's Whale?"

Ruby shrugged her shoulders, looking about the sparsely populated room. "His shift started about an hour or so ago," she said. "Is something wrong?"

David's breathing was ragged and his voice pitched in such a way that everyone's eyes were on him. "Mary Margaret…the baby…it's coming. And we called the hospital, but he's not there."

Ruby nodded and motioned for Ashley to bring her purse. "I'll call him," she said, her heels echoing as she ran out of the room.


	30. Chapter 30

For a woman who had just given birth, Mary Margaret Nolan looked quite pulled together in her yellow and white bed jacket. Cradling her newborn daughter in her arms, she smiled down at the cherub face with a mixture of awe and wonder. "I think she looks smart," she said to her husband. "Don't you think so?"

David's answer was drowned out by the careful tap on the door with Emma sticking her head in. "Are you up for a visit?" she asked tentatively, only entering when the couple welcomed her. Killian trailed a few paces behind her, slapping David on the back in that way that men tend to do.

The new mother's nose scrunched adorably as she tilted the sleeping newborn toward the two visitors. "Meet Ruth Nolan," she said, her voice cracking a bit with emotion. "She is about four hours old and weighs seven pounds, two ounces."

"She's beautiful," Emma breathed, her finger tips touching the hand knitted blanket that Granny had made as a gift. "Congratulations."

Killian admired the baby, shaking his head when Mary Margaret offered to let him hold her. His face turned ashen and his one hand flew up with his palm toward the mother and child in protest. "Oh no, I couldn't," he insisted. "I do better when they can talk and tell me what they need."

Rolling her eyes at his nervous protests, Emma scooped up the tightly wrapped infant into her arms, cooing lightly at the perfect nose and dark lashes on the closed eyes. She twisted herself toward Killian, her eyes almost misty as she stared down at Ruth. "Look at her," she sweetly demanded. "How can you be scared of such a beautiful little girl? Her mouth is like a perfect little bow. She's so pretty."

David chuckled, though the group wasn't sure if that was directed at Killian's fear or Emma's obvious delight. Both seemed quite out of character for two people with such strong personalities. "I am not sure what to think about my deputy being so girly about a baby," he said, shaking his head in exaggerated disbelief. "Doesn't strike much fear in criminal minds."

Feeling the urge to stick her tongue out at the new father, Emma resisted and went back to her admiration of the new Nolan. Killian leaned over her shoulder to peer down, still not ready to trust his grip on the infant. She leaned back into his chest as she cradled Ruth.

"I don't know," Mary Margaret said thoughtfully. "Looks like Emma and Ruth have Killian a little scared."

***AAA***

The next morning Henry slid the two mugs of hot chocolate onto the kitchen table and took his seat across from an obviously nervous Killian. If the man had two hands, he would be wringing them as the boy stared at him with expectant and critical eyes. "I thought you drank coffee," Henry said, taking a sip of the drink he had prepared with extra whipped cream and cinnamon.

"Aye, but I thought we should be on equal footing for this conversation." Killian's eyes flashed to the overly sweet drink that both Emma and Henry enjoyed. He couldn't say he was opposed to it, but he certainly enjoyed the heat and bitterness of his coffee or tea even more.

Henry raised a single eyebrow, giving the impression that he had no idea what or why this conversation was taking place. The man in front of him had nervously asked to talk to him while Emma was back at the hospital to drop off some paperwork to David and put in a few hours at the sheriff's office.

"I wanted to talk to you," Killian began, regarding the tilt of the boy's head that was like his mother's and the way his eyes turned downward like his father. "I would like to ask your mother to marry me." All that was missing was a bit dramatic music as silence fell over them. "And I need to know if you're agreeable to that."

"You're asking my permission?" Henry asked, recalling the conversation they had before about not asking her until Henry was ready.

"Aye," Killian answered honestly. "I love your mother and love you, Henry. I would very much like for us to be a family. I swear to you that I will care for you both and make it my goal to have your lives be all the better for us being a family. I know I can't replace your father, but I will always look at you as my son. I couldn't be prouder of you if you were my son by blood."

Henry smiled over the rim of his mug. "How will it be different though? I mean we already live here. My mom will change her last name, but…"

"I suppose not much will change," Killian said. "I just would like to make it official. You and your mother have had quite a bit of change and instability in the past. I know that. I've had that myself, but I hope that the three of us can build a life that is something all of us would like. I want you to see this as your home. I want you to have your friends come over and for you to come back here on holiday while you're in college. Someday when you're married with children I want you to bring them back here to visit and for us to take them sailing. That's probably too much about what I want, but maybe you could tell me what you want?"

Silently, Henry studied his drink, chewing at his lip. "I want that too," he said finally. "You really do love my mom. I know that. And you've tried to include me on everything. I know that too." There was a maturity to Henry that goes beyond his 12 years, even though he had a little bit of the whipped cream on the tip of his nose and the mugs that he had chosen were sporting reindeer and Santa Claus.

Killian watched the boy push the sleeves of his multicolored sweater up almost to his elbows. "Why do I get the feeling there is a but coming?" He had to admit that while everyone told him he would know when the moment was right, he was more certain of Emma's reaction than Henry's.

"No buts," Henry said with a shake of his brown hair. "I know I don't say it, but I love you too, Killian. You have tried and tried to prove to me that you aren't just kissing up to me to be with my mom. You've told me about my dad. You've been more involved in my life than he was. I know it's not a contest, but it means something to me. And you make my mom happy. I'd like it if you guys got married."

Killian seemed to breathe easier with that knowledge, looking fondly at the boy who would (if Emma said yes) become his step-son. "Thank you, Henry," he said sincerely. "I don't take your approval lightly."

There were more questions of course, the boy wanting to know if there was a plan, where was the ring, and who else knew. Killian answered the best he could, trying hard not to just run to Emma right then and blurt out the question that he had wanted to ask forever.

"It shouldn't be too romantic," Henry offered as a suggestion. "My mom likes that stuff, but she's not a big fan of over the top things. She's…"

"I was thinking about Christmas morning," Killian offered, his hand automatically raising to scratch behind his ear. He'd already played the scenario out a million times in his mind. He may or may not have practiced what he would say in the mirror.

"If I get that new bike I asked for I could get out of your way," Henry said, sounding very much like a man on a negotiating mission. "You know so you have privacy."

"Isn't that blackmail?" Killian pondered. "Anyway, I want you there too. You can help me chase her down when she…"

"Freaks out?"

***AAA***

"She's still beautiful," Emma told her supervisor as he walked with her toward the parking lot. "An absolute angel."

David's appearance told the tale of a man who hadn't slept and was ready to drop. He needed to shave and the shirt he'd been wearing at the wedding was now wrinkled and stained with drops of coffee. Emma was glad she had brought him a few items, including his favorite sweatshirt.

"Thank you for your hard work, Emma," he said, holding open the door for her. "I know when you came on part-time, this wasn't part of the deal." She had been putting in quite a few long shifts lately, giving David the time off that he needed. Robin was going to fill in for the rest, but she felt a certain obligation after everything the Nolans had done for her.

"I would say it was my pleasure, but you know I'd be lying," she teased. "You can pay me back sometime when I need time off."

The smile from David was a weak one, but still he stared into the brightness of the sun on the snow with a squint. "You and Killian have any plans for Christmas?"

"You can't be thinking to invite us over? Your wife just had a baby. Let her rest a little before you two start rivaling Martha Stewart."

"No, I think even my superhero of a wife needs a bit of a break," he chuckled. "I was just making conversation because Killian is one of my best friends; you are obviously smitten with him; and he's so crazy about you that it isn't even funny. So I wanted to know if you're going to put the man out of his misery and marry him?"

She felt her breath catch, as that was not the first time the question had been asked. Anna had insisted that a proposal had to be coming and Emma was to text her the moment that it happened. "I don't care if you're in the middle of the most mind blowing sex ever when he asks. You are going to think of your friend and text her," the woman had insisted to Emma's horror and Kristoff's amusement.

"If I have time to think of you during sex, then I think there is a problem with the relationship," Emma had teased her back.

Belle had been less blunt with her, offering to let Henry stay with her during the honeymoon. The way that the dark haired beauty had woven that into the conversation had been seamless to the point that Emma actually looked down at her ring finger to ensure she had not forgotten some important detail like getting engaged.

Ruby was the boldest of all, e-mailing her links to wedding ideas and having Granny chase her with a measuring tape to get started on wedding gown ideas. Emma only hoped that people were being a little more subtle with Killian, who did not need to think she was trying to pressure him into a proposal.

Shaking off the fact that she was once again being drawn into thoughts of marrying Killian, she laughed and pulled her hat down over her blonde hair. "Just a quiet one at home," Emma said, the use of the word not lost on her. "Presents, breakfast, maybe a movie marathon. Henry's been begging for a new bike so I guess it will include building the dang thing."

***AAA***

Killian did not remember many Christmas mornings with his mother and brother, but the memories he had were of rising early with Liam and trying to look for clues as to the contents of the wrapped packages while they waited for her to say it was time to open presents. Over the past few years he had enjoyed visiting with Roland and his friends' other children in Storybrooke to see what Santa had brought them and exchange a few presents of his own.

However, waking up that morning with Emma tucked snug against his chest was quickly becoming one of his favorite Christmas morning memories. She had kept him up quite a while the night before. Despite Henry's understanding of where presents came from and who was involved in their procurement, she had insisted on waiting until he was asleep to have Killian help her drag out the various items that were each carefully wrapped and bowed. When he collapsed on the couch with the vague thought in his head of future Christmas mornings with children of their own, she had dropped down beside him, turning off the lamps and handing him a glass of wine. They had spent hours there on the couch with a fire crackling in the fireplace and the lights of the tree twinkling like the stars in the sky just outside their windows.

"I thought that eggnog was the traditional drink of the season," he said, resting comfortably against the cushions of the couch as she curled around him. Finishing his glass, he placed it next to them and let his fingers trail down her, relishing the feeling of her skin in such an organic way that he wondered if he had truly ever felt anything before her.

"I prefer wine," she said, her voice sounding sleepy.

That morning as they slept, she had placed her left hand on his chest and his eyes rested on the bare ring finger. He hoped that by evening she would be wearing a ring that he placed there. He had high hopes that she would say yes, a gut feeling if you will. Sure there would be doubts and probably even hesitation, but he was also sure that she wanted a future that included him as much as he wanted one with her.

"Wow," she said, blowing a bit of her hair out of her face. "That's not a very relaxed face. What's going on that has you looking like that?"

"Just thinking," he said, forcing a smile that he hoped said he was not worried or distressed. "When do you suppose your lad will be up? I'm sure he's anxious for his presents."

She scooted up a bit so her face was more even with his. "He will want breakfast first," she said. "It's sort of our thing. We listen to Christmas music, make breakfast and then dig into the presents."

Henry tried to explain to Killian that he and his mother celebrated Christmas a little differently. They did not rush to tear the wrappings off the presents that morning. It was more of a leisurely experience with pancakes in the shape of snowmen and plates piled high. Presents came after that and usually were inspected, assembled, and tested while the television blared some movie that nobody watched and only served as background noise.

"We rarely even get out of our pajamas," Henry explained that morning as the three of them descended the stairs. As was their usual routine, Henry lit the tree and other decorations as Emma got started on breakfast. This time Killian joined in on the preparations, dropping perfect circles of pancake batter on the griddle as Emma whisked the eggs.

Henry was singing along with his mother to the standard tunes on her phone, bumping her hip as he carried over three plates to catch the food as it was prepared. "Merry Christmas, Mom," he said as he dug into the refrigerator and pulled out her favorite juice. She had not had it in months, as it wasn't something she had been able to find in Storybrooke.

"Where on earth did you get than?" she asked, stopping midmotion. Her eyes lit up and she threw the egg filled bowl back to the counter as she embraced her son, practically knocking Killian out of the way.

"Anna brought it when she came in town for the wedding. Did you know how hard it is to hide something in a refrigerator? By the way, she talked to Mr. Clark and they are going to start stocking it at the pharmacy so you can get it more often." He smiled wide, winking at Killian who was chuckling over at the stove.

"I did not know that you were such a fan of orange juice, love," he said, flipping another of the pancakes. "If I had known, I would have squeezed fresh for you every day."

"It's not just orange juice," she said, her voice breathy as she poured a bit into the glass. "It's like heaven."

***AAA***

Just as Emma had predicted, the living room was destroyed within 20 minutes. Tissue paper, boxes, bags, bows, and wrappings littered the floor despite her best attempts to catch it. There were new video games, books, sweaters, photo frames, and the typical gifts. Emma had squealed over a new purse that she had picked out and all but forgotten and Killian dove into an instruction manual for a new GPS system for his boat. Henry got his bicycle and was touting its features as he dug around in a tool box for the right items to assemble the special seat he had requested.

"Do you think we went overboard?" Emma asked, curling her legs up under her as she snuck a peek at the instruction manual that Killian was studying. "I didn't think so but looking at it all now…"

"It's Christmas," Killian protested, not lifting his eyes from the diagrams in the booklet. "It's the one time of year when we get to truly spoil the people we love. Don't second guess it."

Emma sighed, taking another sip of the hot chocolate she had prepared with free shavings of cinnamon bobbing on the whipped cream surface. Not wanting to drink all of the juice in one setting, she had insisted that the sugary drink be included in the menu. "You're right," she said. "Besides, it is the first year that I can actually afford to buy Henry things that he wants. It was a little hard not to be crazy about it."

Killian lowered the instructions, leaning in to kiss her cheek. "You are far from over indulgent," he said. "But there are still the stockings to consider. Shall we?"

Emma groaned as though getting up from the plush couch would physically pain her. "Come on, kid," she said, directing Henry over to the fireplace. "Let's see what we have in the stockings."

The three burlap stockings were chocked full of candy and trinkets, earrings for Emma, a new engraved compass for Killian, and a brand new handheld gaming unit for Henry. Emma dug into the stocking again, hoping to pull out a package of her favorite chocolate covered cherries when she felt the cold metal circle. Her brow furrowed with the effort to extract the item, not even noticing the look exchanged between Killian and Henry.

Picking up the camera that Killian had bought Emma, Henry snapped a few photos of his mother in her striped flannel pajamas as she pulled the sapphire and diamond ring out into the air. Holding it, she looked at Killian with growing realization as to what she was holding. He clicked the shutter again as Killian dropped to one sleep pant clad knee, the man's smile growing as Emma started to nod yes before he even said a word.

Her hand was shaking as she lowered her hands and placed the ring in his palm so that he might slide it over her finger. For once he didn't go with the flowery speech or the wordy declarations of love for her. Instead he stuck with the trusted and true request, "Will you marry me?"

She did hesitate, just as he thought and knew that she would. Her right hand fluttered around her neck for a moment as she stared down at the ring he had slid to her knuckle and the expectant blue eyes that stared back at her so hopefully. She nodded again, her lips twitching upward and her eyes jamming shut. Suddenly her eyes flew open and she turned her head toward her photographer son. "Henry?" she asked, looking at him as if asking his permission. She smiled when he lowered the camera and nodded his own consent. She turned back to face Killian, his expression still hopeful but a little more conservative. "Yes," she said, softly at first and then repeating it louder as he gently slid the ring the rest of the way onto her long finger.

"Yes?" he asked, as if confirming that she wasn't in the midst of some sort of attack. "Really?"

She laughed, tugging on his hand to haul him up to her. "Yes, you idiot. Yes."

There was one more click of the camera as she wrapped her arms around Killian and rose to her toes in her sock covered feet to kiss him gently. She might have been happily moved by his gesture, giddy with excitement that she was going to marry the man she loved, but she was also aware that they had an audience of a 12 year old child. Breaking off the kiss, she kept one hand fisting and clutching the sweatshirt material of Killian's loungewear as she beckoned Henry with the other hand to envelope him in a hug against both her and her now fiancé.

***AAA***

Emma wore one of his shirts that night as her sleeping apparel, her face cradled in on hand and the other resting solidly on the pillow when he entered the room. He and Henry had engaged in an action movie marathon that Emma skipped out on to make her obligatory calls to both Ruby and Anna, as well as one to Mary Margaret who was sure to call as soon as she heard the news from Ruby.

Her eyes fluttered open as the bed dipped with his weight. "Hey," she said, stretching her arms over her head as she tried to wake. "I didn't mean to fall asleep. It's been a long day." She smiled sleepily at him as he slid in beside her.

"You look so beautiful when you sleep that I don't mind it in the least," he said, turning to his side to face her. "Did you have a good Christmas?"

She lifted her left hand and admired the ring there. "I'd say I was a very lucky woman," she teased. "And you are a lucky man." Her eyes lifted from the ring and seemed to study him for a moment. "You keep looking at me as though I might say no or change my mind. What about you? Do you really want to be linked to me for the rest of our life? I can be kind of prickly according to Elsa."

He tucked her blonde hair behind one ear and cradled her face in his hand. "Emma, I have no doubts when it comes to you or Henry. I want to be in your life for as long as you will let me. Without a doubt I have never been happier than the moment you let me place that ring on your finger. I can only imagine how wonderful the future will be when we marry. I think there is nothing I would rather be than your husband."

"Pretty high expectations there." She turned her head slightly and kissed his palm. "But I can't imagine anything more wonderful than being your wife."


	31. Chapter 31

**_A/N: So here we are at the end of another story. I hope you have enjoyed this little world and the hopefully familiarity of the characters. It has been a fun ride for me and I hope for you to have a light and fluffy story. Thank you for taking the time to read it, comment on it, review it, enjoy it, like it, favorite it, follow it, etc. _**

One year after Emma and Henry arrived in Storybrooke, Killian Jones stood in one of the guest rooms of Granny's Bed and Breakfast and smoothed the jacket of his suit the best he could with a shaking hand. He was not nervous to be marrying Emma, but the knowledge that she might very well attempt to run was playing through his mind and scaring him senseless. He would have to chase her, he decided firmly, convince her that this was not such a bad idea. If she wanted to keep things the same with them just sharing a bed, he was okay with that too.

"Don't throw up," Elsa said as she entered the room without knocking. He was used to her now, used to the way she simply entered a room as if people were waiting on her. "It'll be hell to clean up."

"Wouldn't want to lose any of the deposit," he mumbled as Elsa dug into her small purse for a mint. Finding one, she held it out and waited for him to take it. When he didn't, she unwrapped it and thrust it forward to his mouth.

"And you don't want bad breath on your wedding day," she finished. "Everyone will watch you kiss Emma for the first time as her husband. You don't want her to look grossed out by your breath."

"Aye," he said, blinking as his eyes watered from the strong mint. "I wouldn't want that."

"So Emma doesn't have a father to deliver this speech," Elsa said, her hands resting on her hips. "And I'm not much for fatherly speeches, but she gave Will this same talk. So I'm here to do it to you." He raised a solitary eyebrow. "Three rules. If she cries, you had better be crying too. I mean tears of joy, pain, or sadness. Second rule goes with the first. If she shoes up at my place to get away from you, you'd better run. I will find you and kick your sorry butt back across the pond or the lake or whatever. Third rule. Make her happy. You do a good job of that so keep it up. Bring her ice cream just because. Kiss her because you can. Hold her hand in the grocery store. It's the little things. Just make her happy."

"Or you'll kick my sorry arse?"

"You betcha." She gave him a warning glance, told him he looked passable, and then ducked out of the room to finish helping Emma get ready. He was alone again, waiting on David, Thomas, and Philip to arrive to help him. He heard David arrive first, the sunglasses a clear indication that he was still sporting a hangover of epic proportion. The night before had been a bit wild and crazy.

"And how are we this morning?" Killian asked in his best imitation of Mary Margaret he could muster. "Did we have too much to drink?"

"Cocky bastard," David mumbled dropping into a chair and kicking his shoed feet on the bed. "Death has to be preferable to this."

"Did you drink some coffee?" Killian asked, eyeing him suspiciously in light of the warnings about deposits and puking on the light colored rugs. "Toast? Juice?"

"I didn't come in here for the breakfast buffet," David said testily. I'm here to help you get ready and to deliver a much needed speech." He cleared his throat dramatically as pulled out a folded sheet of paper from his pocket. Giving it a once over, he folded it back in his hands. "Emma doesn't have a family to do this so I have decided to give you the dad speech."

"Bloody hell," Killian said. "Elsa just did the same thing. If you are just here to threaten me, I'm thinking I've gotten the message. Anyway. You're my mate. Why aren't you giving her the speeches? I don't have any family either." He was touched at how his friends had embraced Emma, but it was getting ridiculous. He wondered if they had broken up whose side these blokes would have taken.

David tugged at his tie, clearly uncomfortable. "I'm considering this practice for Ruth," he said. "You see, Killian, women are like flowers. They are beautiful and resourceful, tough yet delicate."

"Are you kidding me, mate?" Killian asked, rolling his eyes. "You sound like a bloody fortune cookie."

***AAA***

"Are you going to carry me into the room each time?" Emma asked as Killian deposited her on the bed and raced to lock the door behind them. "I think it might be overkill."

"We're on our honeymoon," he reminded her. "Isn't it supposed to be good luck or something?" He winked at her, yanking at the fabric of his jacket as she giggled and propped herself on the mountain of pillows that their hotel had provided.

"With as many times as you've carried me over the threshold, I'm thinking we should consider buying lottery tickets," she said, mimicking his motions to rid herself of the clothes she had put on just for dinner. "Or maybe you're just trying to ensure you get lucky with me."

His look was almost predatory as he hovered over her, the shirt he'd been wearing was pushed off his shoulders and clung to his pants as she yanked and tore at his belt. He told her she was in too much of a hurry, but he didn't stop her. He'd never dissuaded her from doing anything other than leaving.

"I love you."

***AAA***

Emma sat nervously in Dr. Graham's office, waiting on the professor to finish reading the conclusion to her semester's research paper. She had seen the younger woman before her leave the office in tears, crying that after years of work she had been shot down just weeks before graduation. Emma could only pray at this point that her fate was not the same. Her stomach lurched with what she attributed to nervousness and maybe something she didn't want to consider at that moment as her hands rubbed against the soft denim of her pants. Her engagement ring and wedding band shone brightly in the office light, giving her some comfort that Killian was in the next building over.

"It is an interesting theory," he said, holding his pen above the pages as if he was trying to find the right words to mark down on it. "I might say it is a bit optimistic."

Her laughter tittered nervously. "Not many people say that about me," she said, sighing as she waited on the proverbial axe to drop. He was going to hate it. She had spent weeks working on perfecting her words, double checking her research, interviewing social workers and former foster children. All of it was a waste if he declared it as such. By credit hours she was still just a beginning junior, but she'd pushed through so hard that she had applied for the dual graduate program at the university. She could finish her last year of her undergrad while taking graduate courses. That was, if her advisor approved.

"There are a few small issues with your statistical analysis, but I see nothing major there since this is more of a qualitative paper than quantitative." The pen touched his lips. "I think that you have the basis of a great undergraduate thesis here. Perhaps even the makings of a publishable paper."

"Really?" she asked, her hands clenched together tightly. "Do you…"

He dropped the thick stack of papers onto his desk and peered at his computer. "I suppose you are wanting a letter of recommendation to the joint studies program," he said, pressing a few keys. "I'm afraid there are usually more applicants than there are spots."

Her smile faded, the feeling of disappointment clouding over her. "I understand," she said, reminding herself that at least he had not ripped her to shreds. She was not sure that this overload of a schedule was for her anyway, not with a family.

"A letter from me is not a guarantee, mind you," he said, his gaze fixed on the screen. "However, they usually follow my lead on such things. Come by after our next class session. I'll have it ready for you then." He smiled back at her. "Good work, Mrs. Jones."

Emma practically flew out of the faculty offices and out onto the cold landscape of the campus. Snow crunched under her boots as she ran for the life sciences building where Killian now had his office. She hurried past the tired looking students in the lobby, who were cramming for anatomy tests and flipping through flashcards at blinding rates. There were four students waiting to see her husband, who despite protests had agreed to take on a full load of classes. Emma pretended to ignore the two 20 year old students who were applying new lipstick and talking about how cute Professor Jones was to them.

As one of the students left, Killian poked his head out to discern who was next, his eyes brightening as he saw Emma. He knew about her meeting with her advisor and despite his inclination to do so, he had not placed a call in her favor. She had insisted she was doing this by herself, which was his independent wife's way. No favors, she had said, nothing that would be unfair to the other candidates. So he complied and let her fight her way into contention for one of the spots.

He beckoned her into the office, ignoring the grumbles from the other students as she slid into the small space and shut the door behind her. There was no clue with the expression on her face, no telling what exactly she was thinking or feeling at that moment. So he had to ask. "What's going on? Did you talk to him? What did he say?"

The smile that broke out on her face was dazzling and her arms looped around him, pulling him in for a quick kiss. "He said he'll recommend me," she practically squealed. Her arms were still around him, face turned up to his.

"Of course," Killian said. "He'd be an idiot not to recommend you, love. You are perfect for this spot. You have worked so hard for it. I know that…"

She stepped backward, her face blanching as she gripped the doorknob behind her. "I don't feel so well," she said, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. "It's probably just nerves."

"Sit," he told her, barking out the order as though she was a pet. He guided her to the chair beside his desk and helped her into the seat. "You look pale. Are you in pain? Is it your head?"

She waved off his concerns, assuring him that it was just the stress of presenting her paper and having to talk to Dr. Graham. That had to be it, had to be all that was bothering her. "Killian, I'm fine," she insisted.

"You probably skipped breakfast," he said accusingly. The last few mornings she had, as the idea of food was somewhat distasteful at times lately. "Here. I haven't touched my coffee yet. Have a sip." He lifted the captain mug to her lips, almost spilling as she yanked away from him.

"Sorry," she said, holding a hand over her mouth and nose. "I can't…" She was out of the seat and pawing at the door to open it, leaving him shocked and confused as she dashed down the hall to the restroom. He was still wearing that expression when she emerged a little while later. Her face was pale and her shirt a bit wet from her attempts to splash water on her face and drink from her cupped hand.

"Emma?" he asked taking a tentative step toward her as she leaned against the wall with a sheepish look on her own face. "Love, are you ill? Is something…"

She wondered for a moment if he was at all aware of the possibilities in this situation. They had been married a few weeks more than two years. The topic of children had come up more than a few times, even leading to a decision to see where nature took them. However, after five months an no positive pregnancy test to show for it, they had quelled their enthusiasm for expanding their family and decided that the timing was probably not right anyway.

"I don't know for sure," she began, not wanting to raise his hopes. She had seen his face each of those months when the news did not come. She had seen his smile fade and return as he talked to continuing to practice and he was sure there would be a result soon. She had heard the hitch in his voice when he told her that Henry was enough and that they had a wonderful family the way it was. "I'm late."

His mouth opened a bit, thinking to ask her if she had another meeting or class he didn't know about. Despite her complaints that she did not need him to always be the hero in her life, she knew he was a fixer by nature. If he heard of a problem, he sought the solution. "Late?" he repeated, confused by the choice of word and the fact that he knew her schedule.

She nodded her head slowly, waiting for him to understand. "Late," she repeated. "I know this is probably a bad time given that I'm trying to take on an overloaded school schedule, my capstone project, Henry starting high school, and work getting more hectic, but we thought we would let nature take its course." She paused again, hoping she wasn't the only one catching on to the fact that she was late, her emotions had been haywire, the morning sickness, the aversion to foods, and the fact that she just knew.

"Pregnant?" he asked in one word. She had expected this moment to be different. Maybe it was the commercials and cheesy movies where the father to be was so overcome that he swept his wife into his arms and danced her around the room. Maybe it was the scene in her head where the father would fall to his knees and circle himself around her middle, talking to the unborn child through her stomach. Killian, for once, was not as dramatic. He seemed rooted to the floor, unable to move. "You're…we're…"

"I don't know for sure," she answered quickly, well aware they were having this conversation in a hallway of a very public place. "I…"

"We have to find out," he said in exasperation.

***AAA***

Emma climbed the stairs to the second level of the house, the scent of fresh cut wood strong from the work that Marco had been doing on the nursery. She was not even sure what the plan was in the extra bedroom, but Killian had insisted that it be done right. His face when she pointed out the ready to assemble cribs and changing tables had been of a man so horrified that she slunk backward and agreed to the remodeling project.

Their bedroom was dark when she entered and glanced at the clock that said it was close to midnight. She was exhausted, the combination of school and work not mixing well with the exhaustion and fatigue of being an expectant mother. Just that night she had seriously considered asking Killian if they might move their bedroom to the first floor because her legs did not want to climb the stairs. Kicking off her shoes, she glanced around again to see if she could tell where her husband was or what he was doing. There was no noise from Henry's room and the only glow was from the nightlight in the hallway and the soft lamps in the baby's room. Of course, she thought, he's in there inspecting Marco's craftsmanship.

Her feet slapped against the hardwood floors as she made her way into the nursery, taken aback by the comfortable space it was becoming. The rich cherry wood was carried out in the crib, changing table, and two matching rockers. The walls were painted in a soft blue with a darker blue stripe that chased around the room. The pile of the rug in the center of the room was so thick that she could practically feel it on her ankles. Built in bookshelves were loaded with every children's book imaginable, protected from the dust and elements by doors with plexi (not glass) inserts.

She knew that Killian liked to spend time in the room, but she wasn't prepared for the sight of him on the floor. "What are you doing?" she asked in a shout like whisper. "It's time for bed."

Flipping over to a sitting position, he held up a plastic contraption that she assumed he was trying to install on the electrical outlet. "I read about these in that magazine at the doctor's office," he explained. "It was among the top items for babyproofing your home."

"Babyproofing?" she asked, her hand touching her abdomen out of habit. At just over 20 weeks, they had only recently learned the baby's sex. Their son would not be making his arrival for another few months and even after that it would be a while before he was mobile. She told him as much.

He sighed, looking around the room with a bit of reluctant shame. "I just feel like I need to be doing something, love. You're carrying the baby. You have the morning sickness, the cravings, the leg cramps, and all that. You're the one who will have to push the baby out in the delivery room. I feel like I haven't done enough." He turned the plastic cover over in his hand and stared at it. "Silly, I know."

"It's not silly," she said, carefully lowering herself to the floor with only a little more effort than the task used to require. "You want to be a part of this baby's life. That's not a silly or small thing, Killian. But here's the thing. He doesn't need us to be perfect. He needs us to love him and to give him a good, safe, and happy home."

Killian lifted his head and smiled. "You are getting pretty good at those pep talks."

"You and Elsa are rubbing off on me," she grinned back. Reaching over, she plucked the plastic device out of his hand. "Any idea how this thing works?"

"Not a bloody clue," Killian admitted, chuckling as she tossed it over her shoulder. "Perhaps we can come back to it."

"Does that mean you're ready for bed?" she asked, looking around the room once more. "Because you're going to have to help me up. Someone knocked me up and left me feeling like a whale." She held out her hands as he stood to encourage him to pull her up too.

"You're not even close to a whale, love," he corrected, kissing her as she regained her balance. "You look beautiful."

Holding up her hand as if to direct traffic, she grinned. "Save it, buddy. We're a little more than half way there. Save some of the lines when you have to talk me down from a few more ledges. I may be giving the pep talk tonight, but I assure you that I'll be back to my crazily neurotic self soon enough."

***AAA***

She wasn't completely wrong as her pregnancy continued and she struggled to maintain normalcy and sanity. Henry made himself scarce, unable to take his mother's sudden mood swings that ranged from grounding him for being rude to hugging him because he was growing up too fast. He and Killian had created their own system of looks to say whether or not the other one wanted to brave a confrontation at that moment.

Her final exams were just beginning that semester and she had been up most of the night studying until Killian had gently pulled the books out of her hands and insisted that a good night's sleep was more important.

She flung the cover off of the bed with such force that it landed on the floor in a heap, leaving Killian without protection from the cool night air that did not seem so cool to her. "Bloody hell," he said, blindly reaching for the covers in a groggy state. "It's freezing in here."

One eye popped open to see her staring at him as though murder was not illegal in the state of Maine. He scrunched back in the bed, holding his pillow for protection. "It is 900 degrees in here. I can't sleep. I'm sweating to death. And your child…yes, your child…has decided that tonight would be a great time to take up kickboxing inside of me." She glared at him the low rumble of her growl reverberating around the room. "Now is not the time to tell me about your problems with the temperature."

He nodded mutely, jumping up from the bed and dashing into the hallway to adjust the thermostat. When he entered the room, she was sprawled out in the center of the bed, the tank she had been sleeping in was riding up over her belly and her hair was damp from sweat. He snuck into the closet and pulled out a sweatshirt, covering himself with it and joining her on less than half of the bed. Something told him not to fall asleep until she did.

***AAA***

The days had grown longer and the sun sat higher in the sky as Killian offered a suggestion about correcting their course to Henry. Both men squinted against the bright reflection of the sun against the waves and heard Emma reminding them earlier that sunglasses and hats would have been a good move at that point. The wind was strong, pushing the boat along as Killian and Henry adjusted the sails to just the right angles.

Four years had passed since Emma and Henry first came to Storybrooke, though sometimes it felt much shorter. Henry had lost many of the boyish features he'd had and now took on the more masculine features of his father with his brown hair that curled at the edges when he let it get too long and the soft darkness of his eyes that crinkled in the corners when he laughed or smiled. He wasn't the only one who had changed.

Emma and Killian had married three years ago in a beachside ceremony. Four years of school and work later, Emma was now a graduate student and held her first degree. They had celebrated her graduation with their friends, making silly speeches and laughing loudly. However, Killian was quick to tell her how proud of her he was, sitting front and center with Henry at her graduation ceremony, which came just days before their son's first birthday.

There had been worries when they had confirmed her pregnancy. She worried that she wasn't up to the task – a thought she should have had sooner, she had chastised. She worried that Killian wasn't fully aware of the responsibility of fatherhood. She worried that Henry might not take to being a big brother after so many years of being the only child. He proved her wrong. Henry adored his little brother and went charging into the nursery every time that his little brother cried out. It was Henry that elicited the most smiles out of the pint sized Liam. That was not to say that Liam did not love his parents. He was a happy baby and even more cheerful toddler. He gladly shared his smiles and giggles with all three of them.

Killian chuckled as Henry stood a little straighter and adjusted his stance at the wheel, the gestures obviously not directed at his stepfather. He was clearly showing off for a girl, the blonde haired young lady sitting on one of the padded benches with her eyes trained specifically on Henry rather than the scenery around them.

"Are you sure I can't help you or Mrs. Jones?" Paige asked when Killian ventured closer to Henry to hand him the compass.

"We've got everything under control, Paige," Killian answered, again impressed by his friend's daughter. She was polite and thoughtful, both things he had told Henry it was important to find in a girl. "Henry might could use some help keeping us on course though." He refrained from winking at the boy, knowing that it was a blush reddening his young cheeks rather than a sunburn.

"Ummmm…yeah," Henry answered. "I could show you what to do." He sounded very unsure, almost as nervous as he had sounded when Killian and Emma suggested inviting Paige on their little daytrip. He had been to a few school dances with her, managed to invite her to three movies, countless afternoons studying, and a few shared meals at Granny's. However, he tried to keep it casual, not letting his mother or Killian know just how much he liked her.

Backing away, Killian busied himself with replacing a squeaking joint, smiling as he heard the familiar footsteps behind him. "So what's the plan, Captain?" Emma asked, emerging from the cabin below to inspect their progress. "Are we just going to sail around all day or is there a destination in mind?"

She was not surprised that his arms found their way around her, holding her against him as he pointed toward the horizon and a speck of green. "I thought we could have a nice lunch and some time on the beach since the weather is cooperative today," he said against the shell of her ear. "If all are agreeable."

Emma shot a look at her beaming son, who was proudly directing the boat on his own – not for the first time. "I think everyone can agree on that," she said. "But did you find us something to eat that everyone agree on or will there be mutiny today?"

"I believe we are all still on our best behavior with the lovely friend of Henry's onboard. Though you've been a little tough on the lass. Doing your motherly duty?" He was teasing, but she tensed a bit at the idea that she was being rough on anyone. "Emma?"

"You think you're going to be any different with this little girl," she said, lowering her hand to her growing abdomen. Their second child was due in a few weeks, a girl who was already seeming to weave her way into her father's heart. "I fear for any guy who wants to date her."

"Aye," Killian agreed, his hand rubbing along the swell. "Any lad who dares to want to court my daughter will be under strict scrutiny. Just as any lass who should try to capture the hearts of Henry and Liam."

Killian was becoming that father. He doted on both Henry and Liam, often being reminded by Emma that spoiling Liam was a bad idea. He mourned their defeats and celebrated their victories as though they were his own. On the evenings when Emma worked late or had a late class, she often found her three boys asleep on the couch. Lately though it had been more likely to find Henry and Killian asleep with Liam awake with a new tooth smile for his mother.

The second baby was not exactly planned, but Killian had been over the moon when Emma told him she thought they might just be expanding their family. He had resolutely stated that he just knew this baby would be a girl, which Emma had laughed off as his usual bravado. However, according to their recent ultrasound, he was correct – a fact he would not let her forget. She might have had doubts about adding to their family when things were already over the limits on crazy, but he had none. The look on his face when he learned he was going to be a father again sealed her resolution that she could not be happier with him.

"You do realize that we are done after this," she said as he began his usual process of talking to his little princess. She had teased him during her pregnancy with Liam that he did not need to have long conversations with their unborn child. He did every night before they went to sleep, telling the baby stories of his own childhood. Each morning she woke up to his lilting voice promising their child anything and everything he could provide. "I'm not going through another summer as Storybrooke's version of a whale."

Killian chuckled, kissing her cheek softly before the monitor she held in her free hand began to sound with the indications that Liam was waking up from his nap. She often complained that she was struggling to keep up with her career and being a mother, but he knew she would not trade it for the world. She had been just as enthralled by their son and she was quickly falling into the trap of cute dresses and rompers for their yet to be born daughter. "I would never ask that of you, love," he said, holding her tight for a moment before heading down the ladder stairs to see his son.

Everyone did like the idea of the beach picnic, which turned out to be a quiet affair except for the constant chasing down of Liam who much preferred running toward the water than eating. Killian took most of those jogs, as Emma lumbered a bit gracelessly with the advanced stage of her pregnancy and Henry was distracted by too Paige. It was a simple meal of sandwiches and pasta salad, brownies for dessert and assorted snack items to hold them over.

After the meal Henry took Paige on a walk away from his family while Emma and Killian attempted to help Liam build a sandcastle. Each of their efforts were thwarted by the 14 month old's insistence at diving into the sandy creation. "Liam," Emma said in mock surprise when he did it for the fourth time. "That was mommy's castle!" The little boy giggled gleefully, launching his sandy self into his mother's outstretched arms.

"He's an expert at demolition," Killian laughed, kissing the top of his son's dark hair as the boy stayed wound around Emma. "There are probably some good jobs for that sort of thing."

Emma sighed, Liam snuggling into her neck. "He can be anything he wants to be," she declared.

***AAA***

Ruby's shop in what had been apartment below the loft was still the talk of Storybrooke after opening two years before. Each item had been hand designed and produced right there in town and each included her signature red color. That was why the name Red had been so fitting for the venture. With business booming, the expansion of the space was a foregone conclusion.

"I've got some awesome new ideas for a black jumpsuit with a red belt," Ruby announced to the ladies who had gathered for the preview party. "It's going to be incredible."

"Everything you make is incredible," Ashley said, her fingers touching the wispy fabric of a blue and red dress that seemed to defy gravity with its high collar. "You are so talented." The blonde and her friend, Aurora, had financially backed Ruby's business, adding their own line of children's clothing to the mix.

The raven haired beauty smiled proudly, sipping on her wine and letting her friends bestow praise on her for both her abilities and talents. She pulled out fabric samples, swatches, photographs, sketches and a few more items to better show off her new line. "What do you think?"

Emma sighed at the black cocktail dress that had been sketched. It was a simple a-line style with a black lace overlay and a hint of red in the threads that made up the seams of the dress. "This is beautiful," she whispered. "I just wish I could fit in it."

Laughing gleefully, Mary Margaret sipped her wine and gave Emma a nudge with her shoulder. "You were back in shape in no time after Liam. I'm sure it will be the same with this little doll." When Emma shot her an unbelieving look, she just patted the expectant mother's shoulder and sighed. "It'll be fine, Emma."

Emma might have mentioned that she was not so sure about the assessment, but Anna's entry into the room meant a shift in focus. The woman carried in cartons of gelato from her husband's latest shop – now located in picturesque Storybrooke – and passed them around with instructions to try the new flavors. Soon the conversation turned from fabric and design to flavors and taste testing. "I told Kris that would be a hit," she said when everyone complimented the strawberry swirl. "That settles it. It's going on the menu."

Elsa redirected her sister back to Ruby's display of fashion trends, ignoring her sister's pleas for more feedback on the flavors. "We're here to talk fashion," she said to Anna in a hissing tone. "Fashion and fattening ice cream desserts don't mix."

***AAA***

Emma dropped some of the gelato off in front of her son who was browsing a website about colleges and admissions. She closed her eyes at the thought that in another year her son would be a high school graduate and she'd be facing a life of seeing him only occasionally. His muttered thanks was good enough as she left him and followed the sounds of her husband and younger son playing in the bathtub.

The splashing sound made her cringe at the mess they were probably making, but Killian's laughter mixed with the shrieks of the young Liam pushed that worry away as she stood in the doorway to watch her son attempt to drown the boats that her husband had loaded up in the tub.

Killian slapped his hand into the water, splashing the little boy and sending the boats rocking on the temporary waves. "Tidal wave," he said with an excited voice, returning his hand to brace his son's back as the boy mimicked the slapping motion. That little effort proceeded to soak both Killian and the floor.

"Such danger during bath time," Emma said from the doorway, her hands resting on her back that ached from a long day. "I'm glad I came home in time to rescue you both."

"Hello there, love," Killian said, flashing a dimpled smile at his wife. "I'd invite you to join us, but it is a bit treacherous. Pirates are on the attack." Liam splashed again, hitting his father square in the face with a shot of soapy water.

"I hope that the good guys win," she said, "though I do have a thing for pirates."

***AAA***

Already marking a way for the dramatic, Emily Celeste Jones was born six weeks early. Killian and Henry had reluctantly taken the boat out on a charter trip, assured by Emma that she and the baby were both fine. Liam asleep on against her shoulder, Emma had waved them off with a flick of her hand before heading back into the house. Her research was spread all over the home office and the computer's cursor blinked tauntingly at her with the first draft of her thesis on the screen.

She lowered Liam back down for his morning nap and got in a good two hours of writing when the first contraction hit. Familiar with the sensation, Emma scrambled to her phone and began the chain of calls that it would take. David picked her up and called Elsa and Anna straight away. Mary Margaret took Liam with Ruth to the park and had plans for a Disney movie marathon at the house.

Emma was already being prepped for delivery with Elsa holding one hand and Anna shouting out instructions when her husband burst through the doors smelling of fish and saltwater. Anna wrinkled her nose in distaste for the scent and grabbed for the hospital required garb for dads to be.

"Bloody hell, Emma, I thought you said you were fine," he said, breathless and shrugging out of the shirt he was wearing for a scrub top that was being foisted at him. "You didn't say you were having contractions."

"I wasn't," she said defensively. "Your daughter decided to interrupt my paper and make her debut. It's not my fault."

Anna trailed behind him, tying the cap on his head and grumbling as he leaned out of her reach to kiss his wife. "When I finally got the call from David I thought I had missed it. I thought I missed our little girl being born." He smoothed back her hair, searching her eyes for any sign of discomfort or distress. "I didn't miss it, did I?"

"Do you hear a screaming baby or see one?" Elsa asked sarcastically, giving her friend an agitated look that said she wanted to insult the gall of men. "You didn't miss it, you dork."

Emma smiled weakly at her husband's panicked face. "You act like we haven't been through this before," she breathed, cringing at the start of another contraction. "But I am saying it again now. This is the last time, buddy. If we have more children, they are coming out of you."

His hand grabbed for hers as he heard the commotion of Victor and two nurses entering the room and shooing Anna and Elsa out into the waiting area with the others. "I'd do anything for you," he assured her, leaning his forehead at her temple and marveling at the calmness his wife had in such a situation. She followed each instruction, scooting down or up on the bed as commanded, relaxing her legs when told, and breathing in the pattern directed by one of the nurses. She cussed like a sailor and threatened him with certain death if he ever touched her again, but the determined woman did everything in her power to push the baby out.

And just as with Liam, he was in shock as there was suddenly another person in the room. His daughter, red and wrinkly, wailed in protest of her entry into the world. Wiggling and bucking against the nurse's sure hands, the baby's shocking black hair stood out to him as he kissed his wife's temple and watched them weigh, measure, and clean up the baby girl who he knew would change their lives even more.

Emma was the first to hold her, the fatigue dropping to a state of wonder as she outlined each finger and toe, judged each feature, and wondered aloud why none of her children looked like her. "It's not fair," she said, laughing softly as little Emily seemed to calm herself against her mother's chest. "My children look like their fathers."

"It saves on the DNA tests," joked Victor, his jovialness silenced by a look from Emma. "She's a beautiful and healthy girl. I might add that Killian's features do translate well for a female."

"Thanks, mate," Killian said with a chuckle, leaning in to better see his daughter. "I'll try not to be insulted by that." As the tasks were done the room seemed to clear out and Emma and Killian were left alone with their tiny daughter.

Wrenching her gaze from the baby to Killian, Emma smiled at him warmly. "She's beautiful," she muttered, dreading the moment when the nurse said she'd be back to take young Emily away for more tests. "I can't believe we have a daughter."

His pride was evident on his face as he gazed down at his wife who had completed in his estimation and Herculean task by giving birth to such a miracle. He again felt inadequate as he realized just how incredible the moment was for them. "I love you," he said simply. "I don't even…"

"I love you too. I'm sorry for everything I said while I was in labor. I might have been a little mean." She smiled again, holding their daughter tighter. "She's pretty incredible, isn't she?"

***AAA***

In the seven years since she and Henry had moved to Storybrooke, Emma's life had changed dramatically. Now a social worker, Emma worked each day with foster children in the state system, finding them homes and resources to have lives better than her own had been at that age. Her cramped office was decorated in the institutional colors that were allowed on the state budget, but there was still a warmth to the space with pictures colored by the children she had helped and framed family photos on many of the surfaces.

Henry and Paige were in their first year of college at NYU, coming home every few weeks with laundry and stories of the latest happenings in the city. So far they had not honed in on majors, but Henry was leaning toward English and had just had a short story published in the university's literary journal. Killian was teaching fulltime and had finally agreed to go for his PhD, studying most evenings with one or two children on his lap as Emma caught up with paperwork or visited with her friends.

Their weekends were spent with the extended family they had created. There were Vermont ski trips with Elsa and Anna and their families. Game days with David and Mary Margaret, as well as their two little ones. Ruby dragged Emma and the rest of the ladies to fashion shows in New York and Boston. Philip had started an adult soccer league where the guys made fools of themselves on a regular basis. Belle started a reading group that had most all of them busy with the latest books and bottles of wine, as well as her efforts to start writing her own book.

But most of all, Emma thought as she finalized the last pages of the file of one of the children she was working with, was that Killian was still there. He had not left and she had not left him. Sometimes that just struck her. She still marveled that she got to sleep in his arms each night. She wondered why he put up with her when a case was too tough and she cried for hours because it reminded her of her own childhood. She asked herself if he was real when he left cookies for her after he had gone to bed and she had hours left of work. He seemed to know when she needed him or their children.

There were texts and phone calls just before an important custody hearing. There were the pictures of Liam making clay sculptures or Emily trying out a few ballet moves she saw on television. There was the way he would kiss her as if he had not seen her in months. And there was the loving appreciation he showed when she proofed his papers for school or rubbed his shoulders as he entered data into the computer for his dissertation.

Emma struggled to balance her own happy life with the struggles of her clients, knowing that she was the lucky one. There was the 15 year old girl with no family who was now pregnant herself. There was the boy who had been kicked out of every foster home and even two group facilities for inappropriate behavior. And there were the siblings who begged not to be separated. Emma took each case to heart and seemed to see herself in each of them.

"So Amber," she said, offering the little girl in front of her a piece of chocolate that she kept hidden in her drawer. "How do you like living with the Powell family?" Amber had been there for 18 months, but Emma had just recently learned that the child's birth parents were not going to get her back. That meant that she was cleared for adoption. Emma did not know how well the five year old could understand that or the concept of staying there forever.

The gap toothed red head smiled brightly, holding the candy up to her lips. "I love it," she said, swinging her legs wildly from the chair that was too big for her.

That was just the response that Emma wanted to hear as she typed away at her computer. "Sounds fantastic," Emma said as the little girl described her princess inspired bedroom complete with the plastic tiara that now sat on top of her head. "A bit like a fairy tale?"

The girl bobbed her head. "And you're like my fairy godmother, Emma."


End file.
